


Warmth

by goreyer



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: (kinda), Daniel’s Farm, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, M/M, Max is tired, Quarantine, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, and Daniel is a great friend, some mentions of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreyer/pseuds/goreyer
Summary: Max’s plane back to Monaco from Melbourne gets cancelled, so he takes up Daniel’s offer to stay with him in Perth for a bit so he can catch a flight from there.But what if when he gets to Perth, he doesn’t want to go back?
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Dilara Sanlik/Max Verstappen
Comments: 54
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

Look, it wasn’t like Max was blind to what was going on in the world, it’s just he never really allowed himself to believe quite how bad it actually was. When the race in Melbourne was cancelled, he viewed it as more precautionary than anything – just the FIA being overly worried about their image and how they would be perceived if they let such a large scale event take place. The decision seemed stupid to Max at the time, with all the training and preparation he had done seemingly deemed futile and frankly a waste of his time. He just wanted to get back into his car and drive, was that so much to ask?

The seriousness of the situation only hit him when he was standing in the suspiciously quiet airport in front of the check-in desk and being told that his flight back to Monaco was cancelled because the pilot had been isolated with a temperature and that there were no more flights to neither Monaco nor anywhere else remotely near the south of France in fact for the foreseeable future. When he enquired about Holland, the woman simply offered her apologies and said that he was better off flying to somewhere in either Italy or France and either commuting or getting a lift back to Monaco. But Red Bull would most likely fine him for going anywhere near public transport in fear of catching the virus and he didn’t bet on being able to find someone happy to drive all the way to the middle of France or Italy _and_ take him back.

Long story short, he was stranded in Australia. All because he decided it’d be a good idea to ignore the impending dangers of the pandemic and stay in Melbourne for little under a week since the cancellation of the race and do some sight-seeing with Dilara. She’d been lucky enough to get a flight to her parent’s house in Germany a couple days back, whilst Max had stayed with some friends to do some jet skiing (which he could’ve definitely done back in Monaco but whatever). It’d been a nice time, with the virus scaring the majority of tourists away from the more famous areas and he’d even managed to get in some exercise for good measure, just so he could pretend like he was preparing for a race that wasn’t coming.

A sigh passed his lips and he turned away from the desk, ripping at his hair and cursing himself for being so stupid. He should’ve taken the advice that pretty much everyone gave him, and left as soon as he got the chance – Seb and Kimi had done just that and he was sure they were back locked up in their cozy houses in Switzerland and definitely not stuck in Melbourne airport.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket and when he pulled it out, a single text sat on the screen,

**_Daniel_ **

_you get on your flight okay?_

He’d spoken to Daniel that morning on the phone, just a little conversation about this that and the other, some discussions of loose plans that they vowed to uphold but inevitably never got to do because things were different now. They weren’t teammates, their schedules weren’t similar and they simply weren’t as close. Perhaps it was all the fault of Red Bull, or maybe even the media for pitting them against each other even when there were no problems between the two. They would fabricate this lie and that lie and force the rhetoric that Daniel didn’t like Max because Red Bull was favouring the Dutchman and that he left for Renault to avoid being beaten to the first driver spot. An outsider would think they hated each other from the severity of some of the rumours, but they were just that, rumours. Max knew Daniel didn’t hate him – or at least he hoped he didn’t – and it wasn’t just Daniel who was annoyed at the actions of Red Bull, Max could appreciate they treated the Aussie horribly.

Maybe that was the reason. Maybe it was the sheer guilt that pushed them apart, made Max second guess whether Daniel wanted to spend time with him at all. He almost let himself believe that Daniel blamed him for the short-comings of Renault last season when he knew that would never be the case. Daniel had even said himself once that choosing Renault was ultimately his decision and wasn’t influenced by Max at all, but it was hard to believe him.

**_Max_ **

_flight got cancelled. no clue what to do now_

He fired back a text and sat down on one of the airport waiting room seats, hardly getting a chance to set his phone down before it vibrated again,

**_Daniel_ **

_shit that’s rough_

_any other flights you could get?_

**_Max_ **

_nope, not unless I wanna find my way to monaco from paris_

**_Daniel_ **

_damn_

Max swiped off his chat with Daniel and instead sent a text to Dilara, explaining his predicament but not really expecting an answer, it was gone 3am in Germany after all so she’d be fast asleep by then. He groaned at the idea; what he’d give to be back in his bed and not some stuffy airport. The atmosphere of an airport usually excited him, it always reminded him that he was either going on holiday, going to a race, or heading home after a long week: no matter what the occasion, it was almost always overwhelmingly positive. But now it was too quiet, with no familiar buzz around it and instead it was just simply depressing to be in.

Another text from Daniel appeared at the top of his screen, almost making him jump.

**_Daniel_ **

_any flights going to perth?_

_got a spare room here at my parents house, you’re welcome to stay_

_or see if there’s any flights going from perth back to monaco in the next couple days_

(Max didn’t understand Daniel’s tendency to send multiple texts when one would perfectly suffice)

The offer was strange, and it set an uneasiness in Max’s stomach. Had it been two years ago, he was sure it wouldn’t have been strange in the slightest, but because of their aforementioned drifting apart it seemed forced and awkward, like it was more out of courtesy than anything, and Daniel didn’t really want to say it but had to just to appear nice.

Max rubbed at his eyes, closing them to avoid having to worry about a reply, but the harsh light of the screen just caused the message to appear against the inside of his eyelids and it seemed impossible to escape from the inevitable. Because what other option did he have? Stay at the airport until flights started running again? God knows when that’d be. Staying at a hotel was perhaps the only logical option but Max doubted they’d be open for much longer and frankly he couldn’t stand staring at the same annoyingly perfect decoration of a hotel room for any longer than a week.

He knew Daniel’s parents, and they were lovely people, but he’d feel awfully awkward making them cater for him and house him for however long it took him to get a flight back. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to stay that long, and he prayed that Perth airport had better connections than Melbourne.

So, he took Daniel’s advice and made his way back up to the check-in desk, flashing a stiff smile to the same woman he had been speaking with before,

“Don’t suppose you have any flights to Perth soon?” He asked, fiddling with his fingers.

The woman tapped a few things on her computer and studied it momentarily before replying, “got one boarding in about thirty minutes, if I’m quick I should be able to get your paperwork sorted and bag loaded just in time.”

Max sighed in relief. It wasn’t quite home, but it was _something_. At that point he would’ve taken a flight anywhere just to get out of the airport, it was beginning to get suffocating.

He quickly nodded in response and grabbed his phone to text Daniel.

**_Max_ **

_got a flight to perth :)_

_**Daniel**  
  
_ _nice!_

 _text me when it’s set to land and i’ll come grab you from the airport_

He didn’t know how he was expecting to get to Daniel’s parents house from the airport, but the notion that he was going to be picked up still sent his mind reeling slightly. It almost felt as if they were teammates again, sharing lifts to the Red Bull factory instead of taking both of their cars, with the excuse of helping the environment just a ploy to avoid saying that they actually enjoyed taking small road trips together. Sure, Daniel had bad music taste and his singing was even worse, but Max wasn’t sure there were many times where he had laughed more than when he was driving with Daniel across an empty countryside road with the windows open and music blaring.

He missed it.

Or did he just miss Daniel? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

-:-

The flight was, thankfully, uneventful. It was pleasantly quiet and he even managed to catch up on a couple of hours sleep, something that he could never normally do on flights. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that was hard to distinguish whether it was excitement or dread, something he assumed was to do with meeting Daniel. He was ashamed with himself to ever believe it was dread – he was an adult, they were _both_ adults, why should it be awkward? He knew Daniel perhaps more than he knew most people in his life, he knew exactly how to make him laugh and how to hold a conversation with the Aussie in a way that wasn’t forced in the slightest.

It was easy to theorise that the feeling was excitement just as much as dread, however. Some one on one time with Daniel was a good point to start at trying to reform their faltering friendship; maybe borderline living with each other was a tad bit overkill, but he’d take what he could get – who knew when he’d be seeing him again with all the virus concerns anyway. He valued Daniel’s friendship highly, because after all, it was him who helped him become so accustomed to Formula 1 in the first place, no matter how much his dad wanted to take credit for it.

Daniel was waiting for him as he walked out of passport control and wore a smile that was desperately welcome considering the circumstances.

“Welcome to Perth, home of the best looking people on earth I’ve heard,” Daniel quipped, smile becoming just a little bit wider at his words.

Max wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to hug, so he just fumbled with his bags for something to do with his hands.

“Good thing I’m here then, keeps the numbers up!” He returned.

Daniel laughed brightly and took Max’s backpack from where it was falling from his shoulder, “right let’s get going.”

Max was about to protest and reinforce that he could in fact carry all of the stuff himself, but Daniel was busy walking towards the entrance to the airport, leaving Max to scurry off behind him.

Daniel’s persona in racing wasn’t much different from his persona in real life, but Max knew him well enough to be able to pick up on some small differences, namely how he was sometimes frightfully eager to listen as opposed to be the centre of attention. His actual dress-sense was also very far from the normal track-wear he was seen in on TV, with baggy jumpers and sweats preferred to tight shirts and jeans. Max guessed it was hot, because he was dressed in an oversized tee and shorts, ones that only just allowed the bottom of his thigh tattoo to show.

Max would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about that tattoo once or twice. How far did it go up? What did the designs mean? How did the colours lie against his tanned skin? It fascinated him beyond explanation – something so trivial shouldn’t be so interesting, but he guessed it was the idea that a permanent feature on a friends body could stay so hidden from him. He knew Daniel’s other tattoo’s, and yet none stood out as much as the one on his thigh. The unknown aspect was scarily addictive.

He forced his eyes away from the lines of ink and sped up so he was standing at Daniel’s side, “sorry for making you come all this way, I probably should’ve been smarter and taken a flight back earlier.”

Daniel turned to face him with a sympathetic smile, one Max was accustomed to seeing when he complained to the Aussie about how the car had fucked him over in qualifying.

“Not your fault, mate.” Daniel stuck his hand out that wasn’t occupied with Max’s backpack and tapped him on the arm consolingly, “if I was in a different country and not Australia I probably would’ve done the same.”

Max hummed musingly in way of an answer and flashed his gaze to the tarmac as they walked through the parking lot and towards Daniel’s car, and he was almost taken aback when it wasn’t an Aston. It wasn’t like he needed any reminder that Daniel didn’t race for Red Bull any longer – he’d been gone for well over a year, Max had a full season with Pierre and Alex under his belt in place of Daniel and yet it was still dizzying to think that the person who he had started his Red Bull career with, the person who had taught him the meaning of true, unmatched competition, had moved to a different, and wildly less competitive team.

Daniel didn’t deserve to be slumming it down at the bottom half of the standings. He was too fast, too skilled, too smart to be doing anything other than challenging for world titles. It felt unjust to have him waste his talent in Renault, and Max wished he could voice that to the world, but he knew someone, somewhere would have an issue with it.

“Right, load ‘er up and let’s hit the road.” Daniel swung Max’s backpack off his shoulder and into the boot of his car before making his way to the drivers seat and clambering in.

Max placed his suitcase into the boot with a tad bit more care than Daniel had taken before shutting it and taking his spot in the passenger seat.

The car smelt like it was fresh out of the dealership, but there were far too many things strewn around that were so _Daniel_ , it seemed as though he had owned it forever. Baseball caps, CD’s, various pieces of paper that looked like data sheets from testing and even a singular can of Red Bull in the drinks compartment. Old habits die hard, huh?

The car roared into life under Daniel’s fingertips and he simultaneously reached for his phone that was resting on the dash.

“No. Nu-uh. No way. I’m putting the music on, I’ve had a long day and the last thing I need is to have to listen to your shitty music.” Max hoped the tone came across as lighthearted, he knew music was an easy topic to fall back on should he need to return some normality to the situation.

Daniel sighed melodramatically but retrieved his phone in defeat, “fine. Go ahead and Bluetooth it, but no Dutch crap I won’t understand.”

Max put his phone in place of Daniel’s and was about to turn on some “Dutch crap” as Daniel so eloquently put it, when a text came in.

**_Di <3_ **

_Shit that sounds awful, hope you got to Perth okay! Text me when you get a chance, and also if you were able to check flights back to Monaco from Perth. Love you :)_

Max smiled briefly before clearing the notification from his screen. Clearly it was just turning morning in Germany.

“All good?” Daniel’s voice made him jump, and when Max turned to face the Aussie he found his brown eyes looking back at him.

Max nodded, “yeah. Just Dilara checking if everything’s okay.”

Daniel returned his gaze to the road with little more than a nod in affirmation and began to manoeuvre the car out of the parking lot. Max took the chance to pair his phone up to the car, trying (and failing) not to subconsciously select the option already set up for Daniel’s old Aston instead. He made a show of deleting said option to set his mind at rest.

“I said no Dutch crap,” Daniel groaned as the first few lyrics played through the stereo system.

“How do you even know it’s Dutch?” Max laughed, “could be another language.”

Daniel scoffed, staying silent momentarily as he turned out into the road.

“I’ve listened to you speak Dutch one too many times, Max. I know what it sounds like.”

Max took pity on the other man and instead switched to a song he knew Daniel used to love to sing back when they were teammates. And judging by the way his head spun to stare at Max, he clearly still loved it.

“Is this Wagon Wheel?” Daniel said in exasperation, head constantly flickering back and forth between the road and Max’s face.

Max smiled broadly, “yeah, I remember it was always one of your favourites.”

Daniel paused and studied Max curiously for a while (probably longer than someone who was driving should’ve), eyebrows knitted together in a frown but lips still upturned in a smile. It was a contrasting expression to say the least, but it somehow warmed Max through.

“You remembered?”

This time it was Max’s turn to fall silent, as if the strength of Daniel’s gaze had stolen the words from his mouth. There was something crackling between them that didn’t make sense. Max felt all of a sudden so violently out of his depth it almost had him gasping for air.

“Of course,” he said, but it came out as more of a whisper.

Daniel smiled wider and returned his eyes to the road, singing along to the song just as badly as Max remembered. Max let out a long breath instead and busied himself with staring at the fading lights on the horizon, and how they painted themselves on the inside of Daniel’s car. For a moment, it seemed almost serene: the car sped along the near empty roads so smoothly and effortlessly which coupled with the soft sound of the instrumental of the song playing helped Max relax to an extent he hadn’t allowed himself to before that point. Even the out-of-tune humming coming from the drivers seat was a welcome noise.

He theorised it was because it all felt so normal, just like how it used to. His mind could imagine that he and Daniel were driving to the Red Bull factory together in the glimmering sunrise, that it was just another routine morning for them.

The low rumblings of apprehension had died down in his stomach too, replaced by the warmth of familiarity. And when he allowed himself to hum along to the song as well (because as much as he hated to admit, the song was damn catchy), the dimples on Daniel’s cheeks that appeared as his grin became almost impossibly bigger had him biting his lip against the matching smile that threatened to break onto his face.

He knew he had missed this, but the degree to which he had was clearly quite daunting.

“You think we’ll race at all this season?” Daniel asked, tapping along to the rhythm of Wagon Wheel that had started over again when Max had neglected to change it.

Max shrugged, “I hope so. Would be a waste otherwise, our car is looking decent.”

Daniel made a noncommittal noise and gripped the steering wheel a tad tighter. _Don’t talk about the state of the cars, noted._ Clearly the wounds from last season were still fresh.

“It’s all good for you,” Daniel began, “you’ve got a whole career ahead. My years are numbered, and this doesn’t help at all. One less season to achieve what I want.”

He sounded genuinely despondent, and if Max was a betting man, he’d put all his money on the fact that Daniel was thinking about Red Bull. That if he’d have stayed a little longer he may have been able to properly challenge for a championship. Max would’ve given anything to turn back time and try change Daniel’s mind – not that he imagined he’d have much luck though.

But the idea of Daniel leaving the sport altogether was something far _far_ worse. Sure, they didn’t see much of each other during race weekends anymore, and when one sought the other out it was only a couple of minutes before they were carried away to do something for media or go over data, but it was _Daniel_. For Max, Formula 1 wasn’t Formula 1 without Daniel. It was something far different. He needed Daniel to be there, no matter whether he was fighting alongside him or fighting others further back; he just needed to be able to see Daniel in the paddock, or in the drivers briefing, or on the parade bus. Christ even just seeing his face plastered over the garage of whatever team he planned on driving for was enough.

Because Daniel had taught him things so much more valuable than anything anyone had ever taught him before: he had already known how to drive his car fast and overtake well and hit the apex of every corner, that was ground into him before he even knew how to talk properly, but that wasn’t important. Not when Daniel taught him how to appreciate things that weren’t just trophies, or how to not let his temper get the better of him. Most of all, he taught him it was okay to fail. It was alright to not do as well as you think you could’ve, as long as you don’t beat yourself up about it. Daniel knew that Max’s talent did the talking 9 times out of 10, one slip up wouldn’t cost him much, if anything at all. They happened to everyone.

That took the longest to learn. Because Max had bowed before the idea that anything other than first place was a write-off, and his own incompetency had cost him the top step of the podium. But Daniel encouraged him to focus on how he hadn’t made mistakes, instead that the people who beat him had just been faster due to things completely out of Max’s control. There was only so much he could push the car to beat the Mercedes before the obvious difference in car quality limited him, and that wasn’t his fault. What was he supposed to do? Build the car with his own right hand?

If Daniel wasn’t there to reassure him after every bad race, Max wouldn’t know what to do. Bless Dilara because she tried, she really did, but Max never believed her as much as he believed Daniel.

“You’re 30, Daniel,” Max said slowly, being careful to choose the right words, “Kimi is 40 and still going strong. You’ve got at least another 10 years in you yet, and everyone would be stupid not to keep you in the sport.”

Daniel looked like he was contemplating the statement for a moment before his shit-eating grin returned, “sounds an awful lot like you’re saying you’d miss me, Maximus!”

Max scoffed and slapped at Daniel’s arm in way of an answer. Because of course he’d miss Daniel. He just didn’t trust himself to say just that without going into embarrassing depth about how much the Aussie actually meant to him.

-:-

Daniel’s parents were so much like him, one didn’t need a birth certificate to prove they were related. All it took was about an hour spent with them before you realised that they were basically just two more Daniel’s – bubbly, unapologetically funny and welcoming. They treated Max almost as if he was their own son, despite only meeting him a number of times and never for much longer than a few hours. They said it was because Daniel gushed about what a nice guy Max was, but he found that hard to believe; it was probably more because they were simply that nice to anyone they came across, no matter if it was a teammate of their son’s or not.

It was the first time, however, that Max had visited their house. Or, farm house really, he supposed after pulling into the makeshift dirt driveway. It seemed homely and suited the Ricciardo’s well, just as happy-go-lucky as they were. But that was something that made Max more anxious than anything, which shouldn’t make sense, but Max knew how to deal with cold, frosty atmospheres in silent homes (after all, he grew up in them), he _didn’t_ know how to deal with a bustling one where people were constantly talking and chatting warmly. It seemed unnatural and as though it would be suffocating, but at the same time, he knew the Ricciardo’s wouldn’t force him to stay for any longer than he wanted to.

Daniel helped unload the bags from the boot of the car and led them both to the small set of stairs up to the porch, just in time for the front door to swing open and the face of Grace Ricciardo to flash through the fading light of the evening.

“Max! How are you, I hope your flight was alright?” Grace began, but before Max could answer, she continued, “Daniel, what are you doing making the poor man carry his stuff all by himself? Give him a hand won’t you.”

Max shot a smug smile at Daniel who huffed indignantly but obeyed, taking Max’s suitcase from his hand and hoisting it up the stairs. “The flight was fine, thank you, just thankful I got on one at all.” He replied, following Daniel up to the porch.

Grace pulled him into a hug as soon as he came within arms reach and the action took some of the weight off Max’s shoulders for a moment – a warm hug was _exactly_ what he needed after the day he just had.

“Daniel told me all about it, it’s stupid really, they should’ve been way more accommodating and tried to get you another flight to Monaco instead of just stranding you there. Some companies are just all about the money like that I’m afraid.” She shook her head as she released Max from the hug, smiling apologetically.

“It’s alright, really. I’ll get to looking at flights back to Monaco from Perth in a day or so, might get a bit more luck there than I did in Melbourne.”

Grace hummed approvingly before shooing both Max and Daniel into the house, explaining that Joe had just started making pizzas for dinner (something that had Daniel whooping with joy). Max was about to play off that he wasn’t hungry, just to avoid making a nuisance of himself, but he knew as soon as the words would leave his mouth, he’d have been shot down immediately.

He followed Daniel and Grace through a narrow corridor that led to what he assumed was the living room, though when it widened out he found it to instead be one large room filled with a couple of sofas around a fireplace, a dining table in front of glass windows running along the entire left wall that looked out onto the fields and a kitchen complete with an island to his right. Having everything all in one place should’ve been chaotic and busy, but it all worked so perfectly – allowing everyone to be together in the same room no matter what they were doing. Two of the glass windows were sliding panels, leading out to a smaller seated area on the wrap-around porch as well, and it was all so wonderfully cozy Max almost felt relaxed.

The walls were decorated practically top to bottom with various paintings and family photos, depicting smiling faces against perfect sunsets. Everything seemed like it was placed there haphazardly and without much thought, but it somehow worked and produced a living area that was so staggeringly different to the one Max was used to. Growing up he remembered geometric paintings in place of landscape art and jagged sculptures instead of nicknacks picked up from travelling, with furniture either a cold pavement grey or a sparkling white that blinded him when he would stumble into the kitchen at night and turn the light on whilst looking for a drink of water. He did had free-reign over his bedroom though, and could decorate it how he wished, but he suddenly realised that maybe the reason he spent so much time there when he was at home was simply because it made him feel more at rest than being caged within the depressingly monochromatic grey walls of the rest of the house. Daniel’s house instead boasted browns and reds that exuded a sense of homeliness (the same as the inhabitants, Max mused).

Joe was busy with rolling out the pizza dough on the sparkling polished oak countertop but looked up when they walked into the room, “Max, you made it!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together to rid them of the excess flour and rushing to stand in front of him.

Max held out his hand for a shake, terribly inexperienced with the appropriate way of greeting someone he knew well but not quite well enough to greet them without overthinking his actions. But Joe simply took his hand and pulled him into a hug, slapping his back for good measure.

“Thank you for having me, honestly not sure what I would’ve done otherwise,” Max laughed out from where his head was pressed awkwardly against Joe’s shoulder.

“Jesus Dad, calm down I think you’re choking him,” came Daniel’s voice from behind them.

“Oh leave it Dan, you’re insufferable you really are,” Joe broke from the hug to jokingly flip Daniel off before returning to his place behind the counter. “Didn’t have time to grab anything specific for your pizza, Max, so feel free to use what you like.”

Max flashed a smile in thanks and hovered awkwardly between the kitchen and the living area, waiting for Daniel to stop squabbling with Grace over what did and didn’t belong on a pizza so he could take his lead in what to do next. It was strange to be so out of his depth all of a sudden, and his inherent need to impress anyone and everyone he met itched at him to say something or crack a joke, just to make himself seem more personable; but it also held him back in that he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and look a fool. It always seemed to be a constant stalemate that just left his heart racing and palms sweating.

Eventually, Daniel and Grace seemed to come to a vaguely amicable conclusion and Grace encouraged Daniel to help take Max’s bags upstairs into the guest room so he could get settled in there.

It was much like the rest of the house, really. Warming colours everywhere he looked and decorated so nicely that it almost seemed someone was actually living in the room as opposed to it simply being a guest room. Max chucked his backpack on the large double bed and flopped down onto the mattress beside it with a drawn-out sigh.

“Tired?” Daniel chuckled, and when Max raised his head from the mattress he saw the Aussie standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a fond expression on his face that made Max smile gently.

“Yeah,” he replied, “probably gonna crash at like 11 tonight, too much stress for one day thanks.”

In reality, he knew he’d be up until the early hours of the morning simply because he never got good night sleeps in unfamiliar houses, especially ones with lots of other people milling around in them. But it felt unnecessary to voice that concern, especially when Daniel most likely knew about it already.

“Not surprised, it’ll be like that time you passed out in your driver room after that one race, shit what was it? Hungary maybe? Whatever, I can’t remember. I do remember you got a right bollocking from Christian for being late to media duty though.” Daniel’s face was engulfed in a wolfish grin and it drew a laugh from Max’s lips.

“Think it was Hungary, yeah,” Max said, before his eyes widened in realisation, “wait was it _that_ Hungary race? The one where I punted you off track?”

“I mean I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but seeing as you have, I’m proud you’ve finally come to the conclusion that it was your fault.”

They both dissolved into a frenzy of laughter, because that’s what they did best. Laugh in the face of adversity. Crash in Hungary? Laugh about it over a couple of beers. Crash in Baku? Laugh about it and shout ‘Well Done Baku’ a hundred times. The retirements of the 2018 season? Laugh about it and joke they switched cars half way through. Daniel leaving for Renault? They didn’t laugh about that. They couldn’t. Max could find hilarity in a lot of things but there was no hilarity in that. In reality, it still stung; was still fresh like he was constantly picking at the scab and not letting it heal over. It was a bad habit and he knew it.

“Woah, hey, never said it was my fault,” Max returned through fits of giggles. “You left the door open, remember?”

Daniel scoffed, “oh come off it, you know that’s not true.” He spoke with an edge to his voice but it was so clearly put on, it just came across as funny.

Max leaned up from the bed until he was sitting on the edge, “what’re you gonna do? Call me a sore loser again? An amateur? Do it, I dare you.”

They laughed until their ribs felt sore and were gasping for breath. Max had almost forgotten what a melodic sound Daniel’s laugh was and how it bounced off every wall and captivated everyone. That was another thing he’d miss irrevocably should Daniel leave Formula 1; how his laugh lit up rooms and charmed each person he met. Max would know – it charmed him too.

Daniel was about to voice a rebuttal when Joe shouted from downstairs that the pizza’s were ready to have the toppings put on, and Max’s stomach rumbled in response. He didn’t properly realise quite how hungry he was until that moment, but if he had thought about it, he hadn’t eaten much in the way of food at all that day, only a couple of snacks at the airport. A good homemade pizza with his favourite toppings sounded like the most perfect idea in the world.

He hopped up from the bed and made his way to the door, but Daniel stood in the doorway, blocking his path with the same fond expression he saw earlier on his face. Max was halfway to giving him a hefty shove out of the way but Daniel spoke instead.

“I’m glad you’re here, you know,” he said, like it was nothing. Like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

But it changed the atmosphere in the room like switching a light switch. All of a sudden they were plunged into their own little world with that same strange crackling between them that Max had felt in the car.

“I’m not saying that like ‘oh I’m glad you’ve found a place to stay for the night,’” Daniel continued, “obviously that too, but… I’m genuinely happy that you’re here, with me, at my house. It’s nice.”

Max could feel a rush of colour to his face and he tried his hardest to will it down, “I’m happy to be here too. It, uh, it means a lot to hear you say that.”

Daniel frowned momentarily, head tilting in confusion whilst he shifted his weight to his other foot.

“How come?”

“I didn’t think you still enjoyed hanging out with me,” Max replied in a small voice.

The Aussie whispered a low ‘come here, you’ and tugged Max into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around his body. Max melted into the contact, taking every little bit of reassurance Daniel was offering to him and letting it wear away at the aching anxiety in his bones. He smelt like crisp grass and nature and it was so calming Max let his eyes close against the feeling.

“Don’t ever think that,” Daniel murmured, tightening his grip for a moment until it was almost suffocating. “I’m serious, Max. Don’t even consider it to be a possibility.”

Max nodded as best he could from where his head was resting against Daniel’s shoulder, “okay. I promise I won’t.”

They only parted when Joe called up to them again, and Max felt himself missing the comfort of the hug. But Daniel replaced the physical warmth with a warm smile instead and the domesticity of making pizza’s in the kitchen together with Daniel’s family filled the void of comfort more than he ever thought possible.

-:-

After dinner, Daniel decided that Max couldn’t possibly waste any time whilst he was in Perth and that they needed to make the most of every second; which is why Max found himself out wandering the Australian bush as opposed to getting some well-deserved rest. But the serenity of his surroundings as the sun began to set prevented him from feeling too sorry for himself. He didn’t quite know where Daniel was leading him, but they walked along, chatted softly about old memories and Max noted quite how many good ones they shared together. From Red Bull videos they had to do for the YouTube channel, to stupid interviews and challenges that they never took seriously but no one could even begin to care. Because that was the appeal, Max assumed. People liked relating to their sporting heroes; liked thinking the people they saw on TV driving cars around obscenely fast and earning stupid amounts of money were normal and could laugh and joke about the same things. Max knew he and Daniel acted unprofessionally at times, in fact, it was more often than not that they received glares from their press officers at the comments they made, but the fans ate it up like no tomorrow. They commended the two for being down to earth and approachable and the media were no different. Constantly talking of them as the best driver pairing, and the best of friends on and off track.

What a shame they had to drop that frame of mind in favour of comparing them and scrutinising their every action in order to make their own conclusions. Because Max could make one small comment about Daniel’s driving and they’d pick it apart and put words in his mouth, and before he knew it, a comment he never said (and would never dream of saying) was plastered on every newspaper for the world to see.

He wondered absentmindedly what the media would think about them spending time together in that moment. Whether they’d somehow try and spin it in a negative way. It seemed improbable and unfeasible, but Max knew not to put anything past them. He had made the mistake before and didn’t intend to make it again.

Daniel stopped abruptly before an impressive drop, holding his arm out to block Max from going any further. When the Dutchman craned his neck to look down, he was met with the sparkling of water of a reservoir, oranges and pinks of the sunset reflecting off the surface and creating a quite brilliant sight - the water was still, save from a light ripple here and there when the breeze caught the top. The reservoir was surrounded by steep dirt walls with only one way down to the edge of the water opposite to where Max and Daniel were standing.

“It’s amazing,” Max said, gawping at the dappling of sunlight over the water until it burned at his eyes.

“One of my favourite places to go to, in the summer especially ‘cause the water is always so cool it’s the best way to escape from the heat,” replied Daniel as he took a seat on the edge, legs dangling over the drop.

Max could imagine how inviting the water was in the height of summer, it wasn’t anywhere near that point then but he still felt sticky with sweat from the walk and he wondered how Daniel survived when it was always this hot.

He copied Daniel and sat down beside him, vertigo making a shiver run up his back momentarily as his eyes were drawn to the water at the bottom.

“I’m jealous,” he laughed, “I’d kill for something like this near where I lived in Holland. Though not sure I’d need it much, it hardly ever gets hot there.”

Daniel chuckled, “yeah, don’t imagine you’d get much use out of it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the sound of crickets chirping in the distance and Daniel’s soft humming to a tune Max didn’t recognise. Together with the view across the reservoir, he felt singularly at ease. Like nothing in the world could bother him. He forgot about the race cancellations, stopped worrying about trying to find a way back to Monaco and cleared his mind of anything other than the sight in front of him. Daniel’s presence to his side was welcoming even if they weren’t speaking; it was a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone in this, in _any_ of this. Something told him Daniel would follow him to the end of the world if he asked, and there weren’t enough words in any language to express his thanks.

Daniel must’ve seen his eyes fixed on the water for he said: “wanna go swimming?”

Max turned his head to focus on Daniel instead, catching eyes with the Aussie as he stared back, “you’re joking, right?” Max scoffed. But he already knew the answer.

“Dead serious.”

The look on Daniel’s face told Max he wasn’t lying even in the slightest. Of course he wouldn’t be lying about something like this, it was Daniel. Even the stupidest ideas seemed fun to him.

“I don’t have swimming trunks on me,” Max reasoned.

But Daniel just waved his hand and rolled his eyes, “just go in your boxers, it’s fine. They’ll dry off in a bit.”

Max returned his gaze back to the water and he hated to admit it, but he really did want to go swimming. It was gone 9pm, and there was a breeze that’d probably make it colder than what was comfortable, and yet, after each moment of consideration went by, it just made him want to get in more. It just looked so inviting.

“Alright,” he found himself saying, “fuck it. Yeah, let’s go.”

Daniel whooped in joy and hopped up from where he was sitting, offering a hand to Max to help pull him up which he took gratefully, acutely aware of how one wrong move would send him tumbling over the edge. The drop wasn’t big enough to cause serious harm, but he’d like to return back to Monaco without any embarrassing injuries he’d have to explain to his coach.

When Max was on his feet, Daniel set about removing his oversized jumper before reaching his arms over his shoulders and pulling at the material of his shirt that clutched his back up and over his head in one swift movement. Max didn’t want to stare, but it was harder than he expected. The expanse of skin revealed was smooth and chiselled, dotted with small tattoos that stuck out on his tanned skin like stars against a night sky. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Daniel without a shirt on, they holidayed together frequently in the past on smoking hot beaches and there were enough race weekends when they were teammates that warranted shared ice baths to cool down, but something was inherently different. It was the fact that it was just them, alone together in each others company that had his throat tightening at the sight; the sight of sculpted abs and a sharp v-line that trailed down below his shorts that he had just begun to pull off, exposing even more of his thigh tattoo below the hem of his boxers. Max’s eyes darted along each inked line, piecing together more of the puzzle that was the intricate art piece that wrapped around his upper leg.

He paused his gawping before Daniel could notice and peeled off his shirt that felt stuck to his body with sweat, followed by his jeans that were far too tight to be comfortable in the heat. The breeze brought a welcome chill to his exposed body and he hoped it helped cool down his cheeks that were flushed at the sight of Daniel’s skin.

“Don’t forget to hold your nose before you hit the water,” Daniel said, toeing out of his shoes and socks and placing them next to his pile of neatly folded clothes. “Otherwise the water pressure will make your nose hurt for hours.”

Max didn’t fully comprehend the response until he saw Daniel peering curiously over the edge, “wait, we’re jumping in? Are you crazy?” He stared incredulously at the Aussie, mouth agape.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch a fly,” Daniel winked at him shamelessly, “and of course we’re jumping in, I’m not walking all the way to the opposite end that’s just a waste of time.”

“You’ve got a death wish, I swear to God.”

Daniel laughed but showed no signs of changing his mind, instead he just started taking a number of steps back from the edge, making sure he had a good enough run up to catapult himself off. Max shook his head in disbelief, “yeah have fun with that mate, I’ll see you in there. I’m gonna go walk around.”

He was just about to turn around and make for the much safer entrance to the water when Daniel grabbed his wrist and tugged him back, “you’re either jumping in or not going in at all, them’s the rules Max!”

Max spluttered at him, trying to find words to describe how insanely stupid this idea was. Contrary to popular belief, he was _not_ an adrenaline junkie. He got enough of a rush from driving his Formula 1 car so other activities such as sky-diving or bungee jumping seemed pointless and, frankly, scared the crap out of him. He would much rather stay on solid ground and not spend any more time in the air than he had to, really.

But Daniel was looking at him in a way that was just so _hard_ to say no to. His eyes were sparkling despite nearly being squeezed shut by the strength of his smile, and the soft but commanding grip he held on Max’s wrist was chipping slowly but surely away at his resolve.

“Fine,” Max sighed, fighting his wrist free only to clasp Daniel’s hand in his own instead, “but we’re going in together. I’m not having you chickening out last second and leaving me to jump in by myself.”

Daniel squeezed Max’s hand and gave him an approving grin, “don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you.”

The comment sent a low flutter through Max’s stomach and he took a deep breath to force it down. He was scared, there was no denying that, but Daniel was holding his hand and showing no signs of letting go, and that quelled the fear slightly until it merged together with the excitement bubbling away that he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie after all.

Daniel started walking backwards again, this time pulling Max with him until they were a good few metres away from the edge, “right, let’s do this,” he said, shaking his legs one after the other to warm up the muscles. Max was mesmerised momentarily by the sight of it; watching intently as the muscles rippled under Daniel’s skin, blurring the lines of his tattoo.

Max coughed and averted his gaze, face heating up again for what, annoyingly, wasn’t the first time that evening. He nodded at Daniel’s words, though, and pulled in a number of deep breaths, trying to remind himself that it wasn’t a long drop, and that there was a very low chance of anything going seriously wrong. He saw Daniel raise his other arm to hold his nose and Max had little time to do the same before they were sprinting off towards the edge, leaping into the air when the ground fell away underneath them. Max yelled a number of expletives as a forceful rush of air ran up his back that knocked the breath out of him yet simultaneously had him grinning from ear to ear. The feeling was weird but satisfying – almost akin to a flying qualifying lap or a risky overtake around the outside. In some ways it was addicting.

Max only just remembered to close his eyes before they broke the surface of the water, and the sudden encompassment of coldness against his skin when he was thrust under was the cherry on top of the cake. His adrenaline was pumping overtime, sending shockwaves through his veins that invited white hot fire to lap at every inch of his body. He felt _alive_. He was so aware of his entire body all of a sudden that it was dizzying.

Somewhere between the first contact of the water and being propelled further under, Max had lost his hold on Daniel’s hand. He didn’t dare to open his eyes underwater to check where the Aussie was, so fought against the water pressure and swam upwards until his head broke through into the air. He rubbed at his eyes to rid them of water droplets and turned to his left just in time to see Daniel rising up from the water himself. His hair was dampened against his forehead but somehow managed to retain the curls.

“Holy shit,” Daniel coughed, breathing heavy and deep.

Max laughed and reclined until he was floating on his back, staring up at the now almost completely dark sky. “Holy shit indeed,” he agreed, “that was actually pretty cool.”

“Damn right it was,”

Max let his eyes close against the feeling of weightlessness that had taken over his body as the effects of the adrenaline slowly seeped away. Waves washed over his limbs from time to time, creating a therapeutic sloshing noise that would probably have lulled him to sleep if he was stupid enough to let it. The sudden switch from racing endorphins to a pure relaxed state was euphoric, and everything seemed too perfect to ever be real – like he was going through some sort of out of body experience in a lucid dream.

But he was plunged back into reality when two arms wrapped around his midriff from underneath him and pulled him under the water again, breaking the air of serenity in one swift movement. If it was anyone else, Max would be angry at them for pulling him out of his reverie, but it was Daniel so quite frankly he couldn’t care less.

When they both came back to the surface, they were laughing and spluttering together like it was the funniest thing they had done in years. Max splashed at Daniel halfheartedly and tried desperately to ignore how his skin was burning where it had been in contact with Daniel’s.

“You’re such a little shit,” Max groaned, pouting like a child.

Daniel looked far too pleased with himself and smirked at the comment, “sorry Max, was too tempting not to.”

They swam around for a while, pissing about like the children they were at heart until the chill of the water became too much and it began to bite at Max’s fingers and toes. He was grateful for how it had washed away the stickiness of sweat and odd feeling of airplane travel but he could feel himself shaking slightly and Daniel must’ve noticed for he suggested that they made their way back. They lazily paddled over to the opposite end from where they had jumped in and wandered up the incline, feet dragging as the tiredness settling in both their bones became apparent. Max spared a glance to his side and marvelled in the sight of Daniel, whose body was dripping with water droplets that sparkled against his tanned skin; he looked thoroughly ethereal.

They circled the edge of the walls back to their clothes and Max sighed in relief as he pulled his tshirt over his head, finally offering him a slight bit of warmth even though water droplets began to soak through the material slightly. He valiantly attempted to yank on his jeans but they were too tight on the best of days, and the moisture from the water was doing absolutely nothing to help that so they got stuck about halfway up his thighs and refused to budge when he pulled at the belt buckles even more.

“Probably should’ve thought this through a bit better,” he sighed, grimacing at the predicament.

Daniel looked up from where he was toeing into his shoes and stifled a laugh, “good look mate,” he said.

Max grumbled and sat down to force the jeans off again, which was almost even harder than tugging them on as the moisture had caused the material to cling to his legs suffocatingly.

“Great, so now I have to walk back in my tshirt and boxers, that’s gonna be fun,” he groaned.

Daniel pondered the comment for a moment before handing out his jumper, “chuck this on, it’s too big on me so it might cover up to your knees.”

It felt wrong to point out that they were in fact the same height, just Daniel was slightly more built than Max, so the jumper may not even cover much at all. But Max knew better than to say just that and so took the jumper gratefully, revelling in the coziness that enveloped his body when he put it on. The sleeves practically swamped him, covering his hands and ballooning around his arms in a way that probably looked stupid (another thing Max didn’t understand about Daniel was why he insisted on buying oversized clothing). But it was so, _so_ warm, that he didn’t even properly acknowledge it. When he stood, the jumper did fall to just above his knees to his surprise, and to a passerby, he could pass it off that he was wearing swimming shorts underneath.

“Looks better on you,” Daniel noted, dragging his eyes over Max languidly before nodding as if in confirmation to himself, “yeah nah, it definitely does.”

Max laughed and fiddled with the sleeves, “it’s a bit big.”

“That’s not a bad thing, at least you’ll be warm now.”

“Like I need to be any warmer, it’s still almost 30 degrees outside even though it’s practically nighttime, how can you survive here?”

Daniel let out a loud guffaw and slung his arm around Max’s shoulders, taking off in the direction they came from, “you get used to it mate, trust me. It’s heaven.”

Max was inclined to believe him. He had been in Perth for barely half a day and he was already realising why Daniel raved about it so much; it was the perfect destination to escape from all things racing related, using the tranquil surroundings to totally forget about the existence of any civilisation outside of the quiet farm. Max was so used to fast-paced everything: cars, schedules, thoughts – he hardly ever had time to take a breath and have some time to himself. The pressure from Red Bull to perform and do well in a car that was, to put it simply, not anywhere near good enough to challenge the Mercedes was draining, and whilst it didn’t take a genius to figure out it’d be practically impossible to even beat Bottas, let alone Hamilton, to the championship title, the media and higher-up’s at Red Bull seemed to think it was Max’s fault, not theirs, that they were underperforming.

“The prodigal wonder-kid” they called him, and said he was bound to win countless titles in his career. It put him under a microscope he couldn’t shy away from; every mistake, every comment, every move was magnified for the world to see and the criticism that came from everything, no matter what he did, was exhausting. He was still so young, when compared to previous title winners. Sure Seb had won it at 23, but his Red Bull car actually stood a chance against the rest of the field, and his entry into Formula 1 hadn’t caused as much of an uproar as Max’s had. Max would always be seen as the young lad pitted to be something great, some saying he’d win a championship before the age of 25. But that was unrealistic now, and yet those same few viewed him as a failure for not achieving it.

Now he was called dangerous and cocky, with a sub-par attitude and always something negative to say. He was called that even when he was winning, even when he was out-racing the best drivers on track, even when he was keeping out of trouble. He couldn’t do anything right in the eyes of some people, it appeared. He cursed the hype that surrounded him when he first joined Formula 1; wished he joined it under normal circumstances so there wasn’t the constant expectation for him to do something great. He knew he had the ability to do it, never doubted it for a second, but the media ripped him to the bone regardless because he apparently wasn’t achieving his goals fast enough.

“Do you ever think of staying here forever?” He said absentmindedly, a wistful slur smoothing his words, “just not going back to racing and staying here away from it all?”

Daniel – who hadn’t moved his arm from where it hung over Max’s shoulders – turned to face him with a curious expression on his face, “sometimes, yeah. Only when stuff is going really bad, but then I remind myself how much I’ve sacrificed to get this far anyway, and how miserable I’d be without it,” he spoke confidently, like he’d thought through his answer before (something told Max he’d thought about it hundreds of times). “Why’d you ask?”

Max shrugged, he didn’t really know why he had asked. He wasn’t thinking properly, and the question had just fallen off his tongue; like his mind was trying to get him to open up to someone else. Max knew Daniel would be the safest bet to talk to about practically anything, because although it seemed like he never took anything seriously, he gave better advice than anyone Max had ever talked to.

Daniel nudged him softly, “what’s on your mind, mate? You gotta tell me now.”

A sigh wrecked Max’s body and he stopped still in his tracks, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. Maybe it was the tiredness of travelling or maybe it was the tiredness that he had felt basically every day of his life recently. So many things were weighing on his shoulders, he didn’t even know where to start.

“I’m just… tired,” he said instead.

Daniel frowned, “right, sit down. Let’s talk this out.”

They were standing in the middle of an open field, spotted patches of browning grass below their feet that struggled to grow on the parched soil. There were sheep bleeting somewhere in the distance – from Daniel’s own farm perhaps – and the same inescapable and ever present ringing of crickets all around. Daniel plonked himself on the ground gracelessly and patted the spot next to him, smiling up at Max through fluttering eyelids.

Max didn’t know whether he really did want to have the conversation he knew they were meant to have, but Daniel knew him better than he knew himself, so if he could tell Max wanted to talk about something, then clearly he did – he just didn’t know it. So he sat down, immediately picking at the longer strands of grass so he had something to do with his hands. He was never good at talking so openly, to anyone.

Daniel was looking at him expectedly, so he assumed the Aussie was waiting for an explanation.

“I’m just tired,” he repeated, “tired of racing, tired of training, tired of doing what other people tell me to do just so they can make as much money as possible. I love Formula 1 I really do, and you know that, but it’s just too much sometimes, and I can never seem to catch a break. Every time I sit down to take a breather, Christian calls to discuss the race, or my Dad comes over to analyse every fucking millisecond of my qualifying lap, or my engineer emails me data to look over. I wish I had somewhere like this to come and just escape from it all.”

It all spilled out at once, and he was aware he was speaking far too quickly, but he knew Daniel could handle it, he always could. He had dealt with too many of Max’s meltdowns before to not understand him.

“Trust me Max, you’re not alone in that feeling,” Daniel reassured him, “it’s like that with me, and I’m fairly certain almost every other driver on the grid. It’s a gruelling sport, and it may seem like there is little payoff for the amount of effort you put in, but if you’re aiming too high all the time then it’s easy to get discouraged. Sure, you should always believe you can be the best and all that positive reinforcement crap, but appreciating the smaller things like, ‘hey I may not have won, but I improved 2 places from last year and got a much faster lap time’ is so much more healthy than letting yourself mope about not doing as well as bloody Christian Horner wants you to do.”

Max giggled and let himself fall back until he was gazing up at the sky.

“I mean when is that man ever _really_ happy? We could get 1-2’s for the whole season and he’d still barely crack a smile,” Daniel continued, following Max’s lead and lying back. Max blinked at the choice of the word ‘we’ in the context, clearly it wasn’t just him who had a hard time shaking off the idea of the other being their teammate.

“He just pushes me so hard, Helmut too, saying I need to aim for the moon and if I fail it’s my fault. Never the car’s fault, always mine. And don’t even get me started on my dad,” Max murmured.

“You’re doing great - amazing in fact. Don’t let other people dictate your own goals for you, they’re your goals for a reason, so make them yourself.”

Max wondered how Daniel could sound so wise sometimes when half of the stuff that came out of his mouth in interviews was gibberish. It seemed like he was talking to a different person than the one he made crude jokes with on the Red Bull sofa and danced with in Spa on the famous corner of Eau Rouge. But that was the joy of Daniel; he acted immature and then could articulate himself better than any motivational speaker Max had ever lent half an ear to. It was the best of both worlds for Max.

“It’s hard to convince myself they’re wrong, though,” Max huffed after a while.

“Then let me convince you instead,” said Daniel, “don’t take Christian and Helmut’s opinions on anything to do with racing – well, within reason I guess, sometimes they make the right calls, but you know what I mean. You’ve achieved more in 5 years of Formula 1 than they had in both of their careers combined, so quite frankly I think you know what you’re doing and can afford to make your own decisions sometimes. You’re more than their commodity remember, they’d be fucked without you. Trust me on that.”

And Max trusted him. He knew Daniel would never lie to him, what reason did he have? Before he could’ve lied to help team relations, but they had no reason to be civil to each other now that they weren’t teammates, so lying was pointless. Daniel was speaking from his heart and it was so blindingly obvious it almost choked Max up. He didn’t know how to deal with such brutal honesty, and especially not the amount of unmitigated support Daniel was showing him. The only other people to speak to him in the way Daniel did were fans, but their words always held significantly less weight. He loved them all, each and every one of them, but they were just fans – they didn’t know what it was like to drive the car and deal with the rollercoaster ride that racing was. Daniel did. Hell, Daniel even knew about the pressures of Red Bull, perhaps even more so than Max.

And maybe the Aussie was right. If he thought selfishly, he was the one constantly getting results out of the Red Bull car; out-qualifying his teammates and out-scoring them in most races. He was objectively better than Alex and Pierre based on race results and got the majority of the points haul for last season. Maybe Red Bull _was_ fucked without him. He considered it in the nicest way possible (though it was hard to), because Alex and Pierre were great drivers on their day but neither could tackle the unreliability of the car quite as well as Max.

He didn’t want to have to think about it. It was a strange thing to ponder, whether or not he truly was the glue holding the team together, or whether they would function perfectly fine if he moved on to another team. Mainly because he wouldn’t know where to go should he decide to leave anyway. Mercedes? No. He didn’t fancy being a second driver like Bottas. Ferrari? No. Battling with Charles every race day sounded like torture. A midfield team? No. He had a taste for glory that just wouldn’t be quenched otherwise. Renault?

“I wish I still had you to talk to about this stuff,” he sighed out whilst on that train of thought.

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Max with furrowed eyebrows, “you do, though. I’m always here, mate, I never left. We still live in the same apartment complex for God’s sake,” he commented with a chuckle.

“It’s just different though, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

Max rolled his head to the side to look at Daniel. It was dark but he could still make out the small details on the other mans face; freckles and moles that were dotted across his skin, with which Max connected lazily with his eyes. He only realised he was staring rather obviously when the silence stretched long enough to start ringing in his ears and break him out of his trance.

He quickly darted his gaze back to the ground as he tugged at more grass, “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “you know how stupid I get, I should’ve reached out before.”

Daniel snorted and shoved at Max with his free arm, “you’re not being stupid don’t worry, and anyway, you’re here now. That’s enough, right?”

Maybe it _was_ enough. Maybe this was all they needed.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in what had felt like years, Max’s sleep had been uninterrupted and actually succeeded in making him feel refreshed as soon as he woke up. It was a wonder how that had happened, considering his previous track record with sleeping in friends houses, but he put it down to how comfy the bed was, and also how cripplingly exhausted he had been from all the travelling the day before. The Australian sun was sneaking through the gaps in the curtains and painting the cream duvet in different hues of sunshine, and Max probably would’ve been annoyed at the excess light when he was trying to wake himself up had he not been entranced at it all – something he found himself becoming more and more with every second he spent in Perth. He had gushed about it to Dilara on the phone before he had fallen asleep, who seemed faintly irritated that he was having so much fun without her.

“It sounds like you don’t even want to come back at all!” She had said - teasingly, of course, but there was enough of a hardened edge for it to seem genuine.

Max had reassured her, and said he’d look at plane flights back first thing the next morning, but something itched at his stomach at the idea of it, and he decided to put it off until a little bit later. He could afford a small while longer in paradise before being plunged back into his life in his much less homely apartment and all the tortures that came with it.

He had a smile on his face as he jumped out of bed, pulling on some sweats and a tshirt before making his way downstairs – rumbling stomach drawing him towards the kitchen where he could smell food being cooked. In there he saw Grace, leaning over a frying pan that was crackling with oil and flipping rashers of bacon. At the sound of his plodding footsteps, she looked up,

“Mornin’ Max, did you sleep alright my love?” She said with a smile that lit up the room. Max wondered how on earth every member of the Ricciardo family was so caring, like their hearts could fit love for the entire population of the world, let alone Perth, in.

He returned the smile and sat down at one of the bar stools that was pushed up to the island counter, “great, thank you. Best nights sleep I’ve had in a while.”

“That’s good, you looked exhausted when you came back with Daniel last night.”

“Yeah, catching a flight, driving here, walking to the reservoir and then swimming in it all in one day was a bit overkill I think,” Max replied with a chuckle, “but it was a great evening, we had a good laugh together.”

Grace raised her head again from where she had moved on to cracking two eggs into a pan and observed Max gently; she looked as if she was proud – however that was even possible. It made Max shift in his seat awkwardly, not used to so much attention but also all the more intrigued by it. She was smiling so wide the dimples on her cheeks had become much more pronounced and there was the same fondness in her eyes that Max had seen in Daniel’s the day before.

“I’m glad,” she eventually spoke, “I think he missed spending time with you, you know. All the stupid business with Red Bull really got to him, and when they started blaming you for him leaving, well… He felt bad about it; how they spun you into the villain when you weren’t.”

Max’s chest tightened at her words. He hadn’t been prepared for that kind of confession and it sent his mind wheeling. Yet it also suddenly clicked into place in his brain, how it wasn’t just Max’s guilt that drove them apart, but Daniel’s guilt as well. Daniel felt bad for making Max seem like the bad guy and Max felt bad for feeling like he forced Daniel out. They both played a part in the collapse of their friendship, and most annoyingly of all, Max was sure that if they had actually talked everything out once Daniel had left, he wouldn’t have been having the conversation he was having with Grace just then. They’d still be friends, best friends perhaps. But they were both stubborn, a character fault Max knew he inherited from his father.

“I missed him too,” Max conceded, “he gave me some pretty good advice last night as well, I haven’t really had anyone to speak to about a lot of stuff on my mind so it was nice. He’s always great to talk to.”

Grace nodded, “he has got a mouth on him I’ll agree with you there, if talking was an Olympic sport he’d win the gold medal every time.”

That was true, and Daniel would probably admit it himself. He just never seemed to stop talking, but you always ended up being too charmed to care; his charisma was infectious.

“Flattered, Mum, I really am,” Daniel’s voice sounded from the hallway and his tousled curls appeared not more than a moment later, “wonder where I got that trait from?”

Grace scoffed but wandered over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, one that he accepted with a faux grimace. When they stood next to each other, Max was taken aback at the sheer number of similarities he could count between the two. Not just the black curly hair that was as unruly on mother as it was son, but also an almost identical smile and the same shining brown eyes that sparkled in the dim light of the morning.

“Mornin’ Maxy,” Daniel said, giving him a pat on the back as he joined him in the adjacent bar stool. Max felt a growing feeling of something he couldn’t quite describe when the nickname fell from the Aussie’s mouth. It had been so long since someone had called him Maxy, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time at all. Knowing Daniel, it probably would’ve been him when they were back in the Red Bull days, using it teasingly. But in that moment, it was used endearingly, like how Max would call Dilara ‘Di’ at times.

“Morning,” he returned with a smile, basking in the imperfectly perfect sight of Daniel in the morning, with frazzled hair and slightly too long stubble. But he pulled it off, somehow. And it was almost annoying, how he could look so good so soon after waking up. Max didn’t trust people like that.

Who was he kidding, he trusted Daniel with his life.

They ate breakfast and chatted about anything that came to mind, Max revelling in the wonders of a home-cooked breakfast – and he couldn’t deny it was one of the best one’s he had ever had. It was a surprisingly serene moment, the heat from the morning sun was beating through the glass windows and the homely smell of well-cooked food had Max scurrying to think when the last time he had been that relaxed. Daniel headed the conversations like the extrovert he was, but never neglected Max; always making sure he was included as if he knew how desperate Max was to make a good impression and not seem awkward.

There were too many times to count when he had leant on Daniel in such a way – interviews, press conferences, promotional videos. It was so easy to let the other man take the lead and follow behind with jokes and comments chipped in here and there. He supposed that was the problem, really, with Alex and Pierre. He liked both of them, he truly did, they were great guys and were kind and always perfectly nice, but they were both shy to an extent Max didn’t really know how to deal with. After four years of relative security, it was all of a sudden thrust upon him to take over Daniel’s role of the joker when it came to the aforementioned interviews and such. Max could do it, and he was getting better at doing it, but it was tiring beyond explanation. He didn’t have the inside jokes to fall back on anymore, couldn’t just burst out into song or make stupid whooping noises whenever he was bored – he had to carry the weight of the conversation himself. Maybe in time he and Alex would form a routine and they’d become as much of a comedic duo as the media dubbed Daniel and him, but something told him it would never be quite the same.

“Dad’s gone to lend a hand at a friend’s farm, by the way, so you’re in charge of the sheep this morning,” Grace said to Daniel, licking her thumb and wiping away some grease on the side of her son’s mouth; Daniel tried to careen away but it only made her grip onto his shoulder even harder. Max suppressed a laugh.

“No problem, been a while since I’ve dealt with those fluffy bastards,” Daniel sounded positively jovial at the task.

Grace huffed amusedly, “not sure they’d appreciate you calling them that.”

Daniel shrugged but there was a teasing glint in his eyes when he turned to Max.

“Fancy giving me a hand?”

Max had never been anywhere near a flock of sheep in his life, let alone helped take care of them. He didn’t even know what it involved if he was honest, but it sounded like a good opportunity to further appreciate the wonders of Perth, even if it was just in Daniel’s back garden. Plus he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t in the least bit curious to see what sheep were actually like.

It sounded stupid that he was so inexperienced in the world of farm animals, but whilst most kids would be taken to petting zoo’s and go on school trips to farms, Max was being worked to the bone at karting tracks instead, and so his knowledge was much more limited. It was different, and that was exciting to him. Too many months of the same training regime and racing preparation could make anything exciting, really. But that was hardly the point.

“Sure thing,” he eventually said, smirking at the curious raise of the eyebrows it drew from Daniel, “why do you look so surprised?”

Daniel shook his head, still in slight disbelief, “just didn’t think you’d be the type to wanna get down and dirty in the fields.”

Were Grace not present, Max probably would’ve made a crude comment at Daniel’s choice of wording – the innuendo was almost too blatant to pass on pointing out – but he held his tongue for his, and Daniel’s, sake. Instead, he tried to be as inconspicuous with his teasing as possible.

“What gave you that impression?” He goaded the Aussie further, a cheeky smile working onto his face.

If Max was trying to silently communicate to Daniel through mischievous eyes and a toothy grin that he was talking about a completely different kind of ‘down and dirty’ than the one he had actually meant, well, that was between him and God. No one needed to know. He knew he was treading a dangerous path, but it was amusing to see the slight dappling of pink that rose to Daniel’s cheeks when his own words dawned on him.

“Oh, um, nothing,” Daniel stuttered out, “just know from what you’ve told me before, that’s all.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm.”

Max’s heart was beating out of his chest and one look at Daniel told him he wasn’t much better off either. His face was flushed a deep red and he was biting the inside of his lip, smile dropped in favour of a crooked pout Max only ever saw when the other man was concentrating profusely. The Dutchman knew his own face was just as embarrassingly red, but he supposed that was what walking the line between what was and wasn’t appropriate to discuss with a friend did to you.

He had, indeed, told Daniel about past “sexual escapades” as he liked to call them, but that was when they were so drunk neither of them had control over the words that left their mouths. He didn’t expect Daniel to remember them, let alone quote it out of the blue. It had delved the room around them into a thick tension that wasn’t unwelcome, just surprising considering the circumstances.

Daniel seemed to snap back into reality, and his wide smile returned, “well, in that case, let’s get going. I recommend picking a pair of trousers you’re not gonna miss too much, they’ll get ruined.”

“Noted,” Max chuckled, finally letting out the breath he had been holding for what seemed like far too long.

-:-

Sheep, as Max soon found out, were strange creatures. They hardly so much as batted an eyelid when Max and Daniel made their way through the fence gate, instead choosing to carry on chewing nonchalantly at the grass. It made him wary of them, strangely; it was almost like he couldn’t believe any animal could be so completely calm seemingly all the time. But he couldn’t deny that they were cute, with their wool coats and dopey eyes that seemed to flit closed more often than not.

Daniel set about doing a count, checking that each sheep was accounted for and that none had run away or been picked off by a wandering dingo. Max didn’t know how he did it, frankly. They all looked so similar, and when he attempted to count as well, he kept having to start over because one of them moved or he forgot which ones he had counted and which ones he hadn’t. But he guessed it was an easier task when he realised Daniel probably saw them everyday.

“All good?” Max asked when he saw Daniel frowning slightly.

“Think we’re missing one, could just be my bad eyesight but I’ve counted them 3 times now and come up one short,” he didn’t sound overly worried but there was a tense set to his shoulders.

“What does it look like?” It took about a tenth of a second for Max to cringe at his words, “wait, no. That was a stupid question. It looks like a sheep, just like the rest of them, duh.”

A gentle smile returned to Daniel’s face at that and he set off in the direction of a small barn shelter in the corner of the fenced field, passing by the flock of sheep much closer than Max would’ve dared, but the lethargic creatures didn’t move a muscle. The Dutchman decided on giving them a wider berth when he walked past anyway.

The main field where the sheep were held was connected to a number of others that were sectioned off from each other by fences. The grass was much more plentiful in those adjacent fields and Max guessed they were being saved for when the sheep had grazed the majority of the grass in the main field. Despite the nagging feeling in the back of his mind about the sheep (no matter how much Daniel tried to prove it to him, he still didn’t trust them to be completely docile), Max felt relaxed. The sun was shining down on him, there was soft ground beneath his feet and a low buzz of nature and life around him that created a beautiful soundtrack to the morning. He wasn’t used to doing something so productive so early in the off-season (could he even call it that?) but it was a nice feeling, strangely. Getting out and into the sun and light wind cleansed his mind and body, leaving him with a prominent spring in his step as he followed after the Aussie.

Said Aussie had reached the barn shelter and let out a soft coo as he spotted a lone sheep curled up in the corner, head tucked tightly in towards its stomach.

“Looks like someone’s a bit under the weather,” Daniel may well have morphed into a different person, for his voice had changed drastically. It reminded Max of how Victoria would speak to her dog; the same high-pitched trill that was so over-exaggerated it was _almost_ annoying. He says almost, because in Victoria he did find it annoying but with Daniel? Well, it was slightly endearing. There was something about the caring look in his eyes and the slowness with which he knelt down until he was close enough to run a soothing hand over the sheep’s side that made Max swoon in a way someone accustomed to driving a race car should never find themselves doing. He wished he could explain it, but every time he tried to fish for an explanation, he kept coming up blank. Whatever. If it was important he’d have known.

“What’s wrong?” Max supplied unhelpfully, just to avoid having to think any longer.

Daniel hummed for a second, his hand doing a once over on the sheep’s body until the creature kicked out in protest to him touching a hoof. “From that, I’d guess she either got bit by something or trod in one of those spiky demon plants my mum can’t seem to get rid of.”

“Spiky demon plants?” Max questioned with a giggle.

The sheep had begun to kick up a bit of a fuss, huffing away as Daniel tried to get a better look at the hoof. Max kept his distance, perfectly happy to watch from the sidelines thank you very much. He didn’t know if sheep bit humans, but he wasn’t prepared to find out.

“Yeah, don’t walk barefoot around the right corner of the field unless you want to experience the most excruciating pain of your life let me tell you that much,” Daniel replied, pausing every so often to shush the sheep as it bleated away in protest. “A-hah!” He eventually said, fingers securing around the head of a thorn that looked big enough to cause even someone with the highest pain tolerance a problem. “That’ll do it. Poor thing, probably got infected or something,”

Max gawped, “Jesus, that could probably put me out for the season if I stood on it,”

He was only half joking. It seriously looked like it could cause some damage.

Daniel had managed to pry it out of the sheep’s hoof and was inspecting it with a scowl, like it had caused him more pain than the sheep. The animal had visibly relaxed though, choosing to lay back down and look longingly up at Daniel. And if Max had seen that longing look on his own face a number of times in interviews with Daniel he chose not to think about it. Again, it wasn’t important. He was comparing his expression to that of a sheep after all – it was stupid. It didn’t warrant being thought about, right? Right.

“Christian would pull you even if you said you had a tummy ache mate,” Daniel jibed, poking the end of the thorn very softly into the skin of Max’s hand, “gotta protect their prized possession.

Max whacked Daniel on the back of his head and scoffed, “shut up, you know he wouldn’t be able to stop me racing.”

“True, true. Nothing could stop you racing, I know that. You could be in a coma after the worst crash of your life and would still somehow manage to wake up for qualifying.”

“And I’d beat your lap time.”

“You probably would, yeah. But only ‘cause I’d let you. Y’know, since I’m an amazing friend and all that.”

It was easy.

The back and forth was so, _so_ easy. They could’ve done this all day; returning playful insults that left them with aching smiles and scorching stomach muscles, because it was like clockwork. Everything they did, everything they _had done_ was back and forth. Max sets a lap time, Daniel goes a tenth faster. Daniel makes a borderline inappropriate comment, Max fires one straight back. Back and forth, back and forth. It was just how it worked. There was that stubbornness again, because neither of them wanted to concede even an inch. They fought with their heads down and elbows out which Max knew was a dangerous thing (Hungary and Baku were a case in point), yet it felt so unnatural to do anything else. Max didn’t want to be like Bottas, and just let his teammate by for the good of the team – he wanted to fight and challenge and be challenged himself. And he knew Daniel was the same.

They pushed and pulled, attracted and repelled, climbed and fell, and they did it together. They always did. Until Daniel didn’t have the strength to push and pull anymore; when they repelled more than they attracted and he fell more than he climbed. It wasn’t his fault, God no. The talent was there, it had never left and probably would never leave, but talent could only get you so far. If it was the only prerequisite for a world championship trophy, Daniel would have his hands on it every year, but it wasn’t. The car was the limiting factor, and it always would be. It shouldn’t be, and Max hated that it was but what could he do? Convince Helmut and Christian to give Daniel another chance? What could he even say to them? He didn’t even know himself.

The only thing that he did know, was that he wanted Daniel back. It could destroy them so easily, to be that close together again when there was so much more pressure than before on both to perform for the good of the team, but Max was addicted to competition and thrived on chaos. If it destroyed them, he’d dance in the burning flames of the wreckage and let himself be lit alight by the embers.

Because Daniel would be right there with him.

-:-

After a trip there and back to the house to grab a round of antibiotics, Daniel somehow managed to get the sheep to eat the powder from his hands which led Max to believe he was some sort of animal whisperer. He had never seen a creature seem so calm around a human before, he guessed it was just Daniel’s calming nature. It was so easy to relax in his presence.

They found themselves sitting cross-legged in the middle of the field, lazily watching the flock of sheep as they moved around in a sea of white, nibbling at the ground as they went. Daniel was picking at the ground absentmindedly, face calm and eyes squinting in the unrelenting sunlight that beat down on Max’s far too pale skin – it was only a matter of time before he got a sunburn and he knew it. But the rays were watered down by the breeze enough to be bearable and instead of being uncomfortable, it was rather perfect.

His mind flicked back and forth between how calm he was and how _right_ everything felt, before it settled on an alarming thought:

What if he stayed?

He couldn’t. It wouldn’t work, surely. And anyway, who knew if, or perhaps when, they would close airports; the thought of not being able to see his family for any longer than a month was torture. He needed to leave; needed to check flights as soon as he could and get out and back into his Monaco apartment where he belonged to continue preparation for the season.

But part of him didn’t want to leave. Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind and it made him consider the possibility that perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed in Perth compared to if he went back home. Maybe it was stupid of him to have painted this idilic scene of Perth in his head after spending not even a full day there, but it was so different to Monaco in every way, and a change was what Max was craving. Where in Monaco could he jump into a reservoir, stare at the stars and take care of a flock of sheep?

Where in Monaco could he find someone like Daniel?

Maybe it wasn’t just Perth that was rendering him torn, maybe it was the people in it. Max couldn’t deny how spending time with Daniel had made him feel infinitely happier – like _that_ was what he had been missing the whole season. Someone to talk to when he needed to talk, and joke around with when he wanted to joke. Leaving Perth would mean leaving Daniel, and it would be so easy for them to sweep the memories under the rug again, just like they did before, instead of using them as a spark to reignite their friendship and that was more of a terrifying thought than Max anticipated. Having Daniel so close again made him intent on not making the same mistake and letting him go once more.

“D’you fancy a barbecue tonight?” Daniel asked suddenly, making Max flinch at the sudden break in silence.

When he turned to face Daniel, Max forced back the thought at how good the Aussie looked with the sun dancing off his cheekbones, carving them out and accentuating the devilishly handsome dips and curves of his face.

“Sure,” Max replied, “what’s the occasion?”

Daniel shrugged and his eyes fluttered shut contentedly, “nothing special. Might get Scotty and Marcus round if that’s good with you, could be a laugh.”

Max had only met Scotty once and knew Marcus solely from Daniel’s social media, but they seemed like nice guys. Crazy, perhaps, but Max was so used to that from Daniel it failed to faze him anymore.

“Don’t feel pressured to say yes, by the way,” Daniel continued, “I know you don’t know them that well so I get it if you’re worried about it being awkward. Don’t wanna make you feel unwelcome.”

There was a concerned look on his face when he eventually opened his eyes that made Max smile; it was clear he genuinely didn’t want Max to feel uncomfortable, and it was nice. Daniel had known Scotty and Marcus for longer and were much closer to them, but he still took into account Max’s feelings, and seemingly valued them over his own wishes. Ever the people-pleaser.

Max didn’t have a problem with Daniel’s friends coming over in the slightest, but hearing Daniel give him the option of a cop-out was still nice, and made him feel much more relaxed. He knew he could lean on Daniel during the evening, much like he did when they were teammates, so he assured himself it’d be fine.

“Don’t worry about me, go ahead,” Max answered, “it’ll be nice to see them.”

Daniel gave a blinding smile and patted Max softly on the back, “cheers man. They really like you, you know. At least from what I’ve told them of you.”

Max felt his face heat up at the comment; he shouldn’t have been surprised that Daniel talked about him to his friends, because Max did it too – but the fact he said it out loud without being prompted was a whole different thing altogether. It was comforting and yet scary at the same time and Max couldn’t deny something was different between him and Daniel. Everything was more… intimate, in a vertiginous way that should’ve had his better judgement screaming against it, but all he found himself wanting to do was dive deeper into the feeling.

The hand on his back had begun to burn like fire through the fabric and Max only just managed to contain a shiver that threatened to run down his spine. Max liked fire. Loved it, in fact. He drove across the track like fire sweeping through a building doused in gasoline and there was fire on the tip of his tongue. He wore orange, the colour of fire and adorned the badge of a lion whose roar sounded like the deafening crackling of embers. It all felt so wrong, but all the more right.

“What did you tell them?” He said. Because he wanted to play with that fire.

Daniel clearly wasn’t expecting Max to ask for an explanation, for his head cocked and he looked visibly less sure of himself, “just some of the stuff you and I did when we were teammates, really.” He was holding back on something, and it was blatantly obvious.

Max hummed in way of an answer, stubbornly refusing to change the topic of conversation. He wanted to figure out what he knew was behind those thinly veiled words, because they weren’t what Daniel wanted to say and Max knew it. There was something else, something deeper, something more honest, something-

“And how you helped me,” Daniel blurted out. His feet shuffled on the dusty ground, kicking up clouds of mud every so often.

It was like a punch to the stomach, a slap to the face, a sweeping kick to the side of the knee. Max’s internal self had crumbled to the floor at the weight of five simple words. Whatever he was expecting, it was _not_ that.

“What?” It was the only word Max could choke out.

Daniel’s gaze was flickering everywhere but Max’s face, “how you helped me grow to be a better driver and everything. It’s stupid and really, _really_ sappy, I know, but it’s true. I don’t know if I’d have won even half the races I did if you hadn’t been my teammate.”

“You’re not serious,” Max’s words came out as a whisper.

“I am. I’m serious, Max. You were the only one that challenged me enough to make me perform better.”

As much as Max was trying to convince himself that Daniel was lying, he knew the words that spilled from his mouth were the truth. Because he felt exactly the same.

“But why?” He sounded vastly unintelligent, like he had suddenly lost his grasp on the English language.

Daniel finally gained the courage to look Max in the eyes, and that sealed the deal for Max – there was a seriousness in his gaze that told the Dutchman he wasn’t fabricating anything. It was the cold, hard truth, and there was no way to escape it.

“I don’t know. We just worked so well together, pushed each other to the limit and beyond and… Shit.” He paused, a sigh passing his lips. “It just isn’t the same without you.”

Silence hung over them both like a knife, not even broken by the sound of breaths, for both of them were holding them in, as if the exhalation of air would break the bubble they had built for themselves. It was like a game of who would break it first, but Max didn’t know what to say and Daniel didn’t want to elaborate – for the danger of saying too much was greater than not saying enough. And frankly, he had already said too much anyway.

The Aussie hadn’t even retracted his hand from Max’s back and the contact was becoming too much; yet it was magnetising, and Max found himself wanting more of it. Was it wrong? Yes. Absolutely. Indisputably so. But the tips of Daniel’s fingers had begun to dig into his shirt as he stiffened at the silence and his mind was drowning in static. He couldn’t think properly: all his brain could focus on was the warmth of Daniel’s hand on his back.

A gentle sweep of Daniel’s thumb over his spine was all it took for Max’s resolve to tumble down, “it doesn’t feel right when you’re not there,” he agreed eventually. ‘There’ was ambiguous and even Max wasn’t sure what he meant by it. ‘There’ as in there in the garage? ‘There’ as in there on the podium? ‘There’ as in there by his side through everything? It was a mixture of all three, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

“I wish I hadn’t left,” Daniel’s voice was impossibly quiet, but the magnitude of his words made them sound clear as day in Max’s ears.

Max only realised his eyes had begun to water when the salty tears burned at them; he let out a rattling breath and mustered all the strength he could to not let them fall. He tried to play the record over and over again in his head of his father telling him that showing weakness was bad, and that crying was the weakest action of them all. But he was sitting beside Daniel, who was the only person that he felt he was able to show his weaknesses to. He could lay himself bare in front of the other man and could somehow manage to feel neither guilt nor embarrassment.

And with that, a single tear slipped from his eye and began the tumulous fall down across the planes of his cheeks and off the edge of his jaw. The tickle of the breeze against the wet tear-track was the only motivation to wipe it away with a shaking hand. He could sense Daniel’s gaze set on the side of his face but he didn’t have the bravery to see the emotion behind those brown eyes - not ready to see pity or understanding or something else entirely.

“You should’ve stayed,” Max’s voice had an audible croak, “you should’ve stayed with me.”

Daniel shifted closer and his hand moved from Max’s back to around his shoulder as he fit their sides flush together. The warmth that burst through Max’s body was enough to choke a sob from his throat.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Daniel splayed his hand over Max’s collarbone and rhythmically tapped a thumb along the horizontal bone, “I fucked it all up.”

“No, _they_ fucked it up.”

He wasn’t sure who _they_ were. Whether he was talking about Christian, Helmut, or everyone involved in the team was a mystery, but he didn’t need to clarify. The meaning was clear.

“I didn’t help,” Daniel’s voice had begun to sound increasingly like Max’s (accent related logistics aside) and Max wouldn’t have been surprised if there were tears forming in the Aussie’s eyes as well.

Max didn’t know what to say, opting to lean his head against Daniel’s shoulder whilst his mouth fished for the right words.

“You’re here now,” he settled on. It helped nothing, and was a borderline irrelevant observation, but Daniel tightened his grip around Max and tugged him closer.

And that, somehow, was enough.

They stayed out in the field for what felt like hours, exchanging no more than a couple of words and instead just breathing in the air of each others company. Max could feel his skin burning in the heat of the sun but he didn’t dare suggest going back inside; he wanted to enjoy whatever was going on between them for as long as possible.

He had moved after a while so he was lying perpendicular to Daniel with his head in the other man’s lap. Why? He had no idea. He was becoming increasingly aware that his inhibitions had lowered significantly, and his ability to properly think things through before acting had been hindered purely because of Daniel. They were dancing the thin line between friends and something else entirely, and what was the most scary, was that Max didn’t care. He struggled to identify a part of him that was unhappy with the situations they found themselves in, even though Max knew they were wrong.

Because when the tips of Daniel’s fingers danced through Max’s hair, he leaned into the touch instead of pulling away and sighed contentedly instead of asking Daniel what the hell he was doing. He shouldn’t do that, he should never have done it in the first place. But the scratch of fingers against his scalp was addictive and the knowledge of who those fingers belonged to was even more so.

They belonged to the man who was staring down at him with an indiscernible expression that made Max’s breath shallower at the sight and he had to shut his own eyes to get himself to think before he did something stupid. It wasn’t like he was going to kiss Daniel or something – he was dumb, granted, but he wasn’t _that_ dumb – but he still didn’t trust himself not to confess his deepest, darkest secrets and scare Daniel off with an off-handed comment about how he would basically capitulate if the Aussie ever left the sport.

Max didn’t even raise his head from Daniel’s lap when Grace came over to offer them sandwiches and a cold beer for lunch; just gave her a smile and a thanks and an assurance that they were having a good afternoon. He knew what it looked like to her – because Daniel hadn’t moved his hand from Max’s hair either. But if she suspected anything, she didn’t comment on it and instead just left as quickly as she had arrived.

They mumbled about the season ahead around mouthfuls of sandwiches and washed it all down with beer, that Max discovered was borderline impossible to drink whilst lying down. Every time he lifted the bottle to his lips, it’d spill out onto his cheeks and down his chin. And whilst the coldness wasn’t particularly unwelcome, the stickiness that’d form when the liquid dried was enough to make him cringe each time it happened.

“You know it’d be easier if you sat up, right?” Daniel’s voice sounded teasing from where it was located above Max, and the Dutchman knew exactly the grin that was on Daniel’s face without even having to look at it.

“I’m comfy,” Max grumbled, wiping at his chin after another failed attempt.

Daniel chuckled but didn’t reply, using a thumb to catch a droplet of beer that was running down Max’s throat. The feeling of calloused skin across the Dutchman’s Adam’s apple was enough to send it bobbing and it was borderline impossible for him to contain the shiver that wracked his body.

“Cold?” Daniel asked matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t about 30 degrees out.

Max rolled his eyes, “no, idiot.”

“Hm, interesting. Didn’t know you had a neck fetish then,”

Max choked on the breath he pulled in and gave as good of a wallop to Daniel’s leg as he could muster given his position, delighting in the half-laugh half-groan of pain it drew from the other man. His face was probably the most incriminating colour of red either of them had ever seen and with that type of comment, he didn’t bet on his chances of being able to will it down very quickly.

He still couldn’t help asking himself what the hell they were doing.

-:-

They walked back to the house when the sizzle of heat against Max’s skin became too much and the clock ticked ever closer to the time when Scotty and Marcus would be arriving. Max left Daniel to prepare the barbecue and fill the porch with drinks whilst he took a much needed shower, eternally grateful for the chilled spray that took the stickiness of sweat off his skin. He tried and only just succeeded in not overthinking the interactions he and Daniel had shared, his heat-frazzled brain blurring the coherency of his thoughts enough to thankfully keep him from worrying about them.

With a second and third beer chugged down to help his nerves (because as much as he met countless numbers of people everyday, he was never good at holding long conversations without some alcohol-induced confidence) he joined Daniel on the porch, taking a seat beside the barbecue that Daniel was flipping a couple of skewers of meat on. He had on an obnoxiously coloured ‘Kiss the Cock’ apron that looked like it should’ve said ‘Cook’ but someone had taken a black sharpie to it and changed the ‘o’ to a ‘c’. Knowing Daniel, he probably would’ve changed it himself. Max rolled his eyes at the thought.

“You’re not ready for this, mate,” the Aussie grinned widely, “these are gonna blow your tastebuds off.”

Max craned his neck to see better and put on his best skeptical expression, “aren’t they just chicken kebabs?” He teased.

“ _Just_?? Oh no, Max, these are more than simply chicken kebabs, you’ll see,” Daniel promised, giving them one last flip before prising them off and onto a plate.

Max decided to ignore the charred edges of the meat (because he was a good friend) and took a bite when the plate was handed to him. To his surprise, it genuinely did taste really, really good. He couldn’t exactly say what it was that tasted so good, whether it was how the meat was cooked or what Daniel used to season it, but he couldn’t deny it was one of the better kebabs he had tried – not that it was particularly hard to beat the ones he’d eaten at 2am after a night out, but still.

Daniel must’ve seen the blissed-out look on Max’s face for he said, “good, right?”

“Hate to admit it, but yeah,” Max conceded, “it’s insane.”

Daniel hollered into the air just like he always used to when he’d beat Max at something non-driving related. Thankfully he found out pretty quickly that teasing the Dutchman about driving would end badly; Max couldn’t really help how he reacted when it happened, it was just another one of those character flaws he had inherited from his far too confrontational father.

The Aussie fell silent in favour of pointing at the aforementioned writing on his apron, “you know what you gotta do now mate,” he said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Max scoffed, “you would be so lucky.”

“Lucky? Really? You that good at giving blowjobs? I had no idea.”

For once – and definitely not because he was three beers deep – Max decided to cross the line instead of wander just close to it. If Daniel wanted to leap over it and make crude jokes along the way, Max would match him stride for stride.

“I’m amazing, actually,” Max countered, trying to keep his expression as steely serious as possible.

Even though there was a faintly surprised look on his face, Daniel didn’t miss a beat.

“Interesting, how’d you get so good? Practice makes perfect?”

“Exactly.”

It was impossible to ignore the tension floating in the air. It made Max’s stomach tingle in the all too familiar sensation of watered down arousal. Maybe it was simply the comment, or maybe it was also the sunlight that was framing Daniel’s body and creating an empyrean glow around him; he looked so good it stole the moisture from Max’s mouth. Or perhaps it was the way Daniel was looking at Max like he was about to devour him alive, with greedy eyes that were scouring every inch of Max’s body.

Max didn’t know if he wanted to acknowledge the feeling or not; with a girl he probably would’ve, but this was Daniel, a man, his old teammate, his colleague of sorts. There were no positives to him indulging in such blatant flirting, neither for him and especially not for his career. But for what wasn’t the first time since they had met, Max was in awe of Daniel and everything about him.

Once he first started Formula One as a teenager, it was a youthful awe he adopted from watching Daniel race – he took notes from the older driver, tried to mould his own driving style to match it simply because he liked how Daniel went about driving. When Daniel would pull off a ridiculous overtake, Max would watch the replay in awe and scramble to congratulate him on it embarrassingly eagerly, despite them not even being on the same team.

And when he moved to Red Bull, the awe fazed together with the respect born from racing together and working together so closely. He still found himself comparing his own laps against Daniel’s, using the Aussie as a benchmark to how he should perform. Even when he would out-qualify him, Max picked apart Daniel’s races and qualifying laps in awe of everything he did, simply because he respected him so much, and was grateful for how he allowed Max to learn in his presence.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t sometimes found himself in awe of the other man’s appearance. Whether it be suited up for a media event, dancing sweatily on the dance floor of a wretched club or positively glowing on the top step of the podium, Max would gawp at the sight shamelessly. He was everything Max wasn’t: tanned with toned muscles and perfectly sculpted hair that somehow needed no actual sculpting. Max viewed himself as too pale, too skinny, with hair that never seemed to cooperate unless it was hidden under the confines of a cap.

Max wasn’t gay. But he couldn’t shake the attraction he had towards Daniel, and the situation they found themselves in just then, where he had gone from only seeing the Aussie’s face from across the paddock every so often, to seeing it so close to his own for the majority of the day was sending his mind spinning so violently it scared him. What before were infrequent observations on Daniel’s hair or body or general appearance had suddenly become constant rampant thoughts that never let him catch a break. All he could hear in his head was _DanielDanielDaniel_.

“Alright you two?”

And with that, the tension dissipated as quick as a click of the fingers and Max tore his eyes away from Daniel to the cause of the noise.

Scotty and Marcus had slipped through the sliding glass doors of the house and wandered onto the porch, smiles gleeful and seemingly none the wiser to what had just occurred between the two drivers. Daniel paused his own visual onslaught on Max and met the two other Aussie’s halfway, pulling them both into hugs when they came close enough.

“You’re early,” Daniel laughed, slapping Scotty heartily on the back.

Max didn’t quite know what to do, so he stayed seated, praying Daniel would take the lead as usual.

“Yeah, just couldn’t wait to get here mate, you know how it is,” joked Marcus.

Daniel’s smile was perhaps one of the widest Max had seen when he turned back towards him, and it was so bright Max considered the need for sunglasses. “Max, you know Scotty and Marcus, right?”

That was his cue to get up, he assumed, so he took it and set his plate down and walked over to the group of them. If he had learnt anything from his brief time in Perth, it was that for some reason, hugging seemed like the appropriate reaction for any greeting, even if you hardly knew the person. So Max, ever determined to fit in, bit the bullet and went straight in to hug Scotty and Marcus, heartbeat settling down when his actions were reciprocated readily and earnestly.

“‘Course he knows us man!” Scotty laughed, “I bet you never talked about anyone else to him when you guys were teammates. Don’t believe what he says, Max, he really doesn’t have any other friends apart from me and Marcus.”

“That’s not true and you know it! Max is my friend, right?” Daniel turned to Max in hope of support, but Max was far too eager to fit in, and joking seemed like the only way to do that.

“I don’t know…” he sighed melodramatically, “I’m only really here because I couldn’t get back home y’know, and I just pretended to be friends when we were teammates to make Christian happy.”

“Ouch… that hurt Maxy,”

Daniel was pouting like a child, and it tore a laugh from the other three. Marcus then slapped Daniel on the back, told him to act his ‘grand-old age of 30’ and they fell into an easy conversation, one that Max actually felt himself able to integrate into without too much hassle. It also helped that Daniel was eager to include Max and Scotty and Marcus were equally eager to hear Max’s opinions on things.

Max didn’t know of a time where he had felt so care-free in a conversation with people who he wasn’t necessarily the closest to. He knew he could talk to Daniel about everything, but him aside, he hardly knew Scotty and Marcus, and yet nothing was forced or awkward and from the outside, they probably looked like a group of friends that had known each other for years.

The topic of conversation flitted from racing to cricket to snowboarding to life in general and seemingly everything in between, not even stopping when Daniel went back to the abandoned barbecue and began grilling a whole range of food that had Max salivating at the sight of it all.

Again, to Max’s surprise, the rest of the food was just as good as the kebabs were and they ate until the sun began to dip closer and closer to the horizon. Chattering away with full-stomachs and cheeks that were red from the alcohol and cheerful laughter that passed between the four of them. Grace and Joe made small appearances and treated Scotty and Marcus like long-lost sons; coddling them and asking about their families.

“I’m gonna fix myself something a bit stronger, anyone else want anything?” Daniel said after a while, theatrically springing from his chair.

Scotty called for another beer whilst Marcus (like he already knew exactly what was in Daniel’s booze cupboard) asked for a long island iced tea.

“Jesus fucking Christ Marcus, you tryna get shit faced or something?” Scotty guffawed, though his expression looked like he was impressed more than anything.

Marcus scoffed in response, “oi, the world is going to shit around us, this might be the last thing I drink before I catch the virus and keel over so let me get trashed ok?”

“Shit, you’re right. Scrap the beer and make that two long island iced teas instead.”

Daniel rolled his eyes but laughed as well, turning to Max and giving him a questioning look as if to ask what he wanted.

When Max hesitated, unsure whether it was out of order to ask for some ridiculous cocktail, Daniel spoke up.

“You can come in and have a look what we have if you like, don’t feel like you have to decide on the spot,” he said, already making his way through the sliding glass doors and into the house.

Max nodded relievedly in response and stood up to follow him, stepping over beer bottles that were strewn haphazardly on the decking of the porch.

“You only said that so you don’t have to carry all the drinks back by yourself!” Marcus shouted to Daniel, who jokingly threw a middle finger over his shoulder at the other man.

“It’s kind of true,” Daniel whispered, though, when Max came close enough.

Max feigned offence but laughed instead, trailing behind Daniel as he led him to a large cupboard behind the kitchen counter that was full to the brim with far too expensive looking liqueurs and spirits and a few choice mixers.

“I make a mean mojito,” Daniel said, as if he could tell Max was too spoilt for choice.

“Yeah, that’d be great actually,” Max agreed with a smile, helping to grab some of the bottles for his and the other’s drinks.

Daniel worked in silence, looking like he had trained to be a bartender for at least 10 years with the way he was handling the drinks. He poured without spilling and measured without the need for shot glasses (which in hindsight probably wasn’t professional, but it was a meet up with friends, so who really cared?).

“You checked flights back yet?”

The question was so unexpected it took Max aback. The way in which it was asked was also strange, in that voice of Daniel’s that Max could only compare to when he was asking if an issue on the car was critical and it’d end his race. As if he was dreading the answer. It made Max gulp and pause for far longer than he should’ve.

The real answer was no, he hadn’t. It was easy to say; simple and open and he could pair it with a ‘but I was going to look later tonight’ to make him seem like he had his shit together. So why, _why_ did Max say,

“Yes.”

Why?

“…and?” Daniel pressed gently, eyes locking with Max’s in a way that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Ah, that was why.

“There weren’t any,” Max spoke quickly, “well, there were some but only to Paris or Rome and I can’t get public transport and really don’t want to sit in a taxi for hours and no one will drive me. I don’t know why none of them don’t just go to Monaco or Nice or Ventimiglia or something, but yeah, they just don’t.”

The worst thing about it all, was that Max didn’t even totally regret what he had said. Lying meant being able to spend more time in Perth; the place where he had felt most alive despite only spending a day there, and the place with the only person he really wanted to spend time with. _That_ was the most ridiculous, because he had a fucking girlfriend and a family and friends who he hadn’t ghosted for a year because they moved to a different racing team.

He seriously needed to get his shit together, and _fast_.

Daniel was looking at him strangely, with all remnants of a smile lost, “oh. Can’t you stay with Dilara and her family? Sorry, that sounds like I’m trying to get rid of you – I’m not, I promise. I was just trying to give you suggestions you know because it sounded like you want to leave and… Jesus I’m digging a hole here.”

He let out a forced laugh that felt to Max like someone was playing an instrument completely out of tune. He was too used to the melodic sound of Daniel’s full-blown laughter that anything else didn’t sit completely right with him.

“I don’t really… They don’t like me too much, so uhm, yeah, I’d rather not.” That, at least, was the truth. He couldn’t think of anything worse than spending fuck knows how long cooped up in a house with Dilara and her family.

“That’s fine, honestly. You can stay here as long as you need. Mi casa es tu casa and that bullshit.”

They fixed the rest of the drinks with an odd tension swimming in the air that was nothing like the type of tension from earlier in the evening. Max didn’t know why, and didn’t think he wanted to know why.

He was fucked and he knew it.

-:-

When he retired back to his room in the early hours of the morning, he found his phone lying on the bedside table – exactly where he had left it the night before, completely untouched throughout the entire day. Max would be impressed at his self-control had his heart not dropped at a group of notifications on his screen.

**_Di <3_ **

_Good morning! Just about to turn in for the night – jet lag is killing me! Hope you have a good day, can’t wait to see you soon :) keep me updated if you manage to book a flight._

Sent at 10:31am for Max, so 10:31pm for her.

**_Di <3_ **

_Ok, don’t respond to me then, that’s fine too_

_You’re always on your phone, what’s going on?_

_Are you seriously ignoring me?_

Sent at 8:37pm, 9:59pm and 11:53pm for Max, so 8:37am, 9:59am and 11:53am for her.

Oh boy.

**_Max_ **

_Sorry had a busy day and wasn’t looking at my phone. Checked flights this morning and there weren’t any, gonna stay at Daniel’s for a bit longer and figure out what to do._

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

The reply came in almost immediately.

**_Di <3_ **

_Can’t tell if you’re bad at checking flights or just straight up lying to me, but there was a flight 4 hours ago. Whatever, though. It’s fine._

Max cradled his head in his hands and groaned. What was Perth doing to him? Or more specifically, what was Daniel doing to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to come out! was having major writers block in the middle of it, but here it is :) hope you enjoyed it <3


	3. Chapter 3

There were too many thoughts raging in Max’s head for him to even imagine getting a good nights sleep. He tossed and turned and yet sleep never came – always seeming to be chased away just at the last moment by a reminder of his actions. He was out of order, that was clear enough for anyone to see, not just him and lying to Dilara made him feel horrible, because she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve _him_. She deserved someone who wanted to come back home to her, not someone who dropped her for a person he had hardly spoken more than a couple of words to outside of forced media interactions in the past year.

He groaned and tugged the duvet up over his head, trying to block out the sun that was shining through the curtains. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about everything, but it seemed impossible. There was too much light, the birds were being too noisy outside his window and his thoughts were racing too quickly to ignore. The things he had welcomed so warmly the morning before had suddenly become his worst enemy.

And as if to further add to his problems, the door swung open to his room. Max fought against the urge to burst into tears. Could he not just get a moments peace?

“Heya Max, just going to go- oh.” Daniel’s voice sounded muffled from where Max’s head was under the covers.

When he finally pulled the covers down to his chin, Daniel’s face was peering at him from around the doorframe, adorning a concerned frown. In way of acknowledgement, he simply stared back.

“You good?” Daniel shuffled further into the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed.

Max rubbed at his eyes, “fine.”

A careful laugh.

“You don’t look it. Alcohol hit you that bad?”

“I only had like 4 drinks, Daniel. I’m fine.”

When Daniel rested his hand on the outline of Max’s foot under the covers, the Dutchman snatched it away. That was the absolute last thing he needed. He was sick of feeling the low fluttering of butterflies whenever Daniel would touch him; because whilst it felt good in the moment, it left a sour taste when he had the chance to sit back and think about it.

“Ok… do you wanna talk about what’s going on?” Daniel spoke slowly and with an uncharacteristically monotonous voice.

Max scowled, “I said I’m fine, can you just believe me for once? You don’t need to know how I’m feeling every second of every day.”

He was being a dick – displacing his feelings of insecurity onto Daniel, who was probably the last person who deserved it. As ultimately, the Aussie wasn’t in the wrong. He hadn’t done anything other than being perfectly charitable and an ear to lend when Max needed it, and as much as Max blamed him for being too touchy with him and causing him to act and think in ways he knew were wrong, he knew he was no more at fault than Daniel in that respect. He too leaned into touches and sought comfort in contact from the other man.

He was digging himself a hole, and it was getting deeper and deeper by the second.

Daniel’s face was a mixture of confusion and worry. How he wasn’t angry at being snapped at was a mystery; when they were teammates, a comment like that would get Max an equally scathing retort back, but no. Perhaps the scenery of Perth was doing strange things to Daniel as well as Max – soothing his temper exponentially until he had no wishes to bicker back and forth. And when they couldn’t do back and forth, it felt like being placed in unfamiliar territory.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine,” Daniel began, stubbornly landing a hand on Max’s ankle again and holding it down when the he attempted to tear it away once more. Max guessed that was the closest to anger he was going to see from Daniel. “There’s no pressure. I was just going to come in here and say me and my mum are going to go to the shops to pick up some food. You’re welcome to come if you want but something tells me you’d rather not.”

The politeness was freaking Max out and it all seemed far too professional for the two of them. But he stood his ground, purely because he was the son of his father and said, “go ahead.”

Daniel accepted it with a curt nod and left Max in peace. Any previous hope of falling back asleep was shattered, as Max’s thoughts were even more muddled than before. He stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like an hour, listening for the slamming of the front door that signalled Daniel and Grace had left. He rubbed at his eyes until he saw swirls and patterns, just in order to see something else other than the homely décor of the room – it felt strangely suffocating, as if his thoughts were taking up the majority of the room and stealing the oxygen from it. It was stuffy and silent yet deafening at the same time and it was giving Max a headache.

Eventually, the unwelcoming feelings became too much, and he moved to get out of bed, eager to escape in any way possible. He thought of going for a walk; Lord knew he needed some time to think, and there seemed to be no better place to do that in than Perth. The air was so much more freeing than Monaco, and there was a lightness to it that he wasn’t used to. He assumed it was due to the lack of cars and industry polluting the air and making it heavier and a chore to breathe in and out, instead it was almost akin to a sea breeze – lilted and cleansing and all the more rewarding. He itched to experience it, so tugged on a pair of shorts and Daniel’s jumper he had leant him (because as much as he knew he shouldn’t, the garment made him feel secure which was something he desperately needed in that moment) and made his way outside into the sun that was thankfully much more manageable than the previous days.

He didn’t have a plan of where to go, and instead just let his legs carry him in whatever direction they chose. He trundled along slowly, with feet dragging in the parched soil, eyes trained downwards and eyebrows furrowed against the relentless sunshine. It was peaceful, he couldn’t deny it, and it was almost as if the wind was blowing away his negative thoughts, and replacing them with awe-filled observations of the little things that made up the wondrous scenery of Perth.

It wasn’t until he heard a loud bleating that he realised he had walked to the fenced edge of the sheep field, and when he allowed himself to look up, he was met with the sight of them mulling around near the centre, chewing on the grass like they always seemed to be doing. Max stopped walking and leaned against the fence, watching them curiously and appreciating how calm they were. There was no jumping around or excitable barking one would associate with a dog, just slow, predictable movements. Max fought against his better judgement and in the end slipped under one of the fence rails before making the short trek over to the sea of clouds that the sheep created. It was almost as if the clouds from the sky had escaped onto the ground.

They fixed Max with a curious expression when he approached, but when he sat down a couple of metres away, they simply went back to grazing, only acknowledging him when he shifted his position or dug at the ground with his heel.

One sheep, that Max recognised as the one Daniel had treated the day before only from a large brown spot that covered the top of its head, took a number of nervous steps towards him, as if it was scoping him out. Apparently it was satisfied that Max wasn’t a threat, as it laid down in front of him and eyed its surroundings lazily.

Max was surprised to feel such a stark feeling of achievement from such a simple act, and from a sheep no less, but the action made him smile.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” He asked the creature, and received little more than a flick of the ears in return.

Max turned his gaze to the cloudless sky, following the vapour trails left by planes and letting his mind wander to his predicament. He had taken the walk to try and forget about it, but the calmness seeping into his body made him more confident he could figure out what to do, and talking to someone (or rather some _thing_ ) who wouldn’t talk back and make him feel bad was a blessing.

“Because… I know I’m an asshole,” he continued, “I’ve pissed off Dilara and now Daniel, all because I made one stupid in the moment decision. But I kind of don’t regret it? Surely if it was the wrong decision I’d be regretting it, right? I just feel so much happier here, and it’s stupid because this isn’t my home, it never has been and it never will be, my home is in Monaco and-“

The sheep interrupted with a gruff bleat, and raised it’s head; staring at Max unblinkingly.

Max frowned, “unless it’s not about it being ‘home’ and it’s actually about…”

 _Daniel_.

The word went unsaid, because he simply wasn’t ready to say it.

“I’m happier here because he’s here. But why? Is it because I’ve missed him that much? I mean, sure, I have missed him a bunch but I still see him around, it’s not like he’s here in Perth 24/7 and I’m all the way back in Europe and we never see or talk to each other. Fuck sake I just don’t understand myself,” he conceded with a groan.

He focussed his eyes on one of the planes flying overhead and imagined himself on it: imagined he was flying back to Monaco, away from Perth, away from Daniel, away from everything. He wasn’t even surprised when the thought alone was enough to make him frown.

If he thought about himself, instead of anyone else in his life, he’d realise that he deserved to do things that he wanted to do. Because he’d been acting upon other people’s wishes for too long – he’d started karting because of his father wanting him to, he’d always driven the car exactly how Christian asked, had forced back friendships because he didn’t want other people to view him as weak, he’d spend countless hours reviewing race weekends and allowed other people to take advantage of him in order to help themselves. If he thought about it, and really, truly thought about it, he’d realise, he never put himself first.

And maybe, it was time to change that.

“If I stay, I’ll be doing what _I_ want to do. Not what anyone else wants me to do. That’s fine, right? What’s the use of making other people happy if I’m not happy? I have just as much right to happiness as everyone else in my life, and if Perth and…” he paused, the next word hard to force out but he didn’t allow himself enough time to overthink it any longer, “Daniel make me happy, then what’s the harm in staying?”

The sheep rose to its feet and wandered back to the rest of the flock, and Max took that as a sign of agreement – because he wanted encouragement and he’d take it in any form. He felt like a weight was lifted off his chest, he had enough of a justification, more for himself than anyone else, but it was nice to have one none the less.

A smile rose onto his face for the first time that day, and it felt better than any smile he could remember in recent memory. And with the sun shining down, the wind brushing through his hair and the comforting presence of the flock of sheep (which he never thought he’d ever find comforting), he felt relaxed.

He got up after a while, and he let himself take off in a random direction. He left the sheep behind, but kept their carefree spirit with him as he walked – humming softly to a melody he couldn’t place but didn’t really care because it sounded nice against the auditory backdrop of nature. He never thought he’d like the chirping of crickets, but he found himself unwilling to hear anything else now that he was so used to it. It was a nice constant, and he didn’t have enough of those in his life.

The Australian bush stretched for miles and Max wondered how much of it he could explore; perhaps Daniel would take him on a trip in one of his off-road vehicles and they’d go as far into it as they could, singing at the top of their lungs because no one could hear them but each other. Everything seemed isolated, but never lonely. Max felt at ease simply walking along by himself, in a way he had never experienced in any other place.

He walked through sparse copses of trees, taking shelter from the sun under their swaying leaves that threw dappled shadows onto the ground and skirted around thirsty-looking bushes that had grown dried and spiky in the heat. He thought he recognised his surroundings slightly, and his suspicions were confirmed when he found himself walking up the small ridge that led to the cliffs above the reservoir. It wasn’t surprising that he had unconsciously walked there, especially when he caught sight of the sparkling water again. It looked even more inviting than before, if that was even possible.

Max sat down on the edge of the cliff and let the gravity drag all his worries out as he hung his legs over the drop. The high that ran through his body from staring down at the water lit him alight, tearing away the grogginess and fatigue from his poor nights sleep. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the sight in front of him, hoping to show it to Daniel when he got back. He knew he had to apologise first, because Daniel didn’t deserve the attitude Max had shown him that morning, not in the slightest.

Thinking about Daniel inevitably got him thinking about Dilara and Max knew she deserved an explanation as much as Daniel did, so he opened their iMessage chat and typed out a single text,

**_Max_ **

_I’m sorry for lying to you yesterday, it was really bad of me and I don’t know how to apologise enough. I just didn’t know how else to say that I need some time to myself just so I can relax for a while and not have to worry about everything. I haven’t been able to think about myself and what I want in so long, and what I want is to stay here in Perth. It’s not for any other reason than that, I promise._

Max let out a long breath as he hit send, watching as the message delivered and placing his phone down before he could get a response. It wasn’t like he was scared for it, but he didn’t want anything to ruin the contentment he was feeling in that moment. He deserved a while longer to not think about the repercussions of his decision the night before.

He fiddled with a stone on the ground for a while, lost in indistinguishable thoughts, before throwing it into the water and watching the small spray it forced up as it pierced the surface and sunk to the bottom. He repeated the action a number of times, focusing on the sound as it echoed off the walls and broke through the low noises of nature. It was oddly calming, like he was sinking his problems one by one – throwing them away and letting them fall into the water never to be seen again.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself and stood up, tearing off his (well, Daniel’s, really) jumper and stepping out of his shoes and socks. The water almost felt like it was calling to him, and if he wanted anything, it was the rush of adrenaline he had felt whilst jumping into the water the first time. It didn’t feel the same without Daniel, but Max could at least brag to the other man that he had jumped in by himself when he got back.

With no hand to clutch onto and no calming presence, there was more of an anxious feeling in his stomach than he remembered from before, but Max tried to force it from his mind and instead walked backwards to create his run-up. It was less daunting in that he knew what to expect, so he focussed on that.

When he broke into a run, he had little time to compose himself before he catapulted himself off, solid ground falling away from beneath his feet to reveal inviting blue depths that rippled as the wind blew. Once again, the air rushed up his spine and tore a last shuddering breath before he crashed under the surface, the impact scathing his skin in the best kind of way. His nose burnt though, and it wasn’t until he kicked his legs to swim upwards and out of the water that he realised he had forgotten to hold his nose in the first place, the thought of which made him laugh – Daniel would’ve reminded him if he were there.

Max looked to his left as if expecting the majestic sight of the Aussie rising to the surface to appear, with his sparkling curls and lips that were flushed a deep red from the rush of blood, but all he saw was the stretch of water, wildly disturbed by his jump. Max felt another pang of guilt at having snapped at him. Especially now that he had his shit together, and knew where his head was at. Before, he was confused and was taking it out on Daniel for no reason other than the fact that he was the one scrambling his thoughts.

It was strange, really, how much Daniel affected him. If Max thought about it more, he’d have figured out the reason why, but he didn’t really want to. The mere implication that he liked Daniel a tad bit more than friends was terrifying to him. He couldn’t, they had always been close, always made jokes and crossed the socially-constructed boundaries between friends, there was nothing inherently different to how they usually acted. But out in Perth, a place so disconnected from society it was easy to imagine there was no society at all, Max realised there was something there. A tiny loose thread that if he pulled, would unravel the whole ‘friends’ façade, and expose what both of them were thinking but never saying. In Monaco, or any other country they travelled to, he was too busy to notice that thread, too stressed, too crowded. _Too preoccupied with his girlfriend,_ his mind unhelpfully supplied.

He tried to think about other things, but as he swam around waves lapped at his neck and he imagined them as hands gently pressed against the skin, with a thumb deftly swiping across his jaw.

And if he imagined a rose tattoo etched into the skin of one of those hands, he refused to acknowledge it.

-:-

A text sat at the top of his screen when he trundled back over to his clothes, and Max read it slowly whilst pulling on his shoes.

**_Di <3_ **

_I get that, but it doesn’t mean you had to lie about it. I think space is what we both need right now anyway._

Max blinked. It sounded like a breakup text, but he and Dilara were well-versed in the ups and downs of on again and off again relationships, so it didn’t sting hardly as much as it should’ve. Nevertheless, it still had him sighing into the soft material of Daniel’s jumper he had scrunched in his hands and was yet another reminder that he really didn’t need that he had made a mess of everything.

Max loved Dilara, he did, but it wasn’t an all-consuming, earth-shattering kind of love that he found himself craving far too often. It was shallower, with significantly less feelings, and the feelings that were there were scarily close to fabrications purely formed to make things easier for himself. Because everything was easier with a girlfriend – the press weren’t breathing down his neck waiting for a story of a one night stand gone wrong, his family weren’t berating him for turning up to family events without bringing a plus-one, and most importantly, his own mind wasn’t considering the possibility that he may find just as much happiness with a man by his side as a woman.

Sure, he still thought about it (considerably more now that he was spending more time with Daniel), but it was much easier to remind himself that he was dating a woman, and that was the only clue he needed to figure out his sexuality. It was a close-minded approach, and his cowardice shone brighter than the Perth sunshine, but the guilt that tore him apart when he thought about another man in any way other than platonically was exhausting. Some days he wished he could erase the remnants of his father that still plagued the opinions in his head.

He hated how obvious it was that he was related to his father. He had noticed the same thing with Daniel and his parents, and yet the similarities between them were all positive – like how bright and happy they were, with glowing personalities that took up whole rooms. Whereas in contrast, Max knew his ugliest traits were products of his father. He was too stubborn, too aggressive, with a searing tongue that let out a caustic remark too many far too often. Strangers were intimidated and acquaintances walked on egg-shells around him, afraid of pissing him off in case he’d explode.

And that was without talking about his views on life. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that people deserved to live how they chose, and love who they wanted to love, there was constantly a disgusting voice in the back of his head that told him it was unnatural to think those things. He stayed silent when his father would rebuke gay couples they saw on TV, humming in way of acknowledgement but never agreement, because he knew they were doing nothing wrong. Max wondered if he would ever have the strength to date a man, or if the internalised homophobia would be too much for him. It was already enough to make him anxious over the interactions he shared with Daniel, and that was just harmless flirting. He didn’t want to think about how much worse he’d feel had it been anything more.

It was suffocating being brought up and being taught things he went on to realise were completely false and unjust, but couldn’t express that for fear of rejection. He despised his dad, but was fiercely defensive of him to others, in a way he couldn’t explain and was not in the slightest bit proud of. There was nothing worth defending – he pushed Max too hard, held awful views on society and was an all-round asshole. But let another person say that and Max is all of a sudden personally offended.

He chastised himself about it as he wandered back to the farm, jumper sticking to the left over water on his back and creating an uncomfortable warmth but Max still didn’t want to take it off in fear of losing its inexplicable power of calming him down. He wrapped his arms around his waist, as if both trying to pull the garment closer to him and also creating a shield.

The sheep hadn’t moved much from their spot in the centre of the field when Max skirted around the edge and he smiled gently at them, a newfound appreciation for them growing slowly. He spotted Joe in front of the garage at the back of the house, head hidden away in the bonnet of a dusty coloured Jeep.

Max walked past and offered a short greeting, expecting nothing more than one in return before he would enter back into the house, but Joe’s head whipped up at Max’s voice and his expression looked as if Max had helped him solve a maths problem.

“Ah! Max, just the person I wanted to see!” He began, smile bright and engaging, “I’m having some trouble getting this ol’ gal to start up, thought who would know better about car stuff than someone who drives them for a living. You alright to give me a hand?”

Max was surprised at the request, but found no reason to refuse it.

“Of course, do you have any idea what’s causing the problem?” He asked, joining Joe at the boot of the car and peering inside.

Joe shrugged, “no clue, can’t tell if it’s something big or just a part gone loose that I need to screw in properly. Dan drives these things around like he doesn’t care if they crash into a million pieces, so I wouldn’t be surprised if something fell out of place.”

“Sounds like Daniel alright.” Max chuckled.

The inside of a road car was significantly different to that of a Formula One car, so Max didn’t rate his chances at being able to recognise something out of place unless it was glaringly obvious, but he knew that any help was better than none so he raked his eyes over the machinery contained under the bonnet, connecting wires in his head to check if any had been pulled out of their respective ports. He tried to put names to the parts he knew and used his knowledge from shadowing his mechanics to the best use he could.

Eventually, he zeroed in on the ignition distributor cap, something he only knew the name of from when it caused him problems in his old Aston and needed to be replaced. And sure enough, when he leant down to get a better look, a long hairline crack was set into the top.

He reached out and pointed a finger at it, “that should be the problem, that big crack there.”

Joe followed Max’s finger and hummed when he caught sight of the issue, “you’re a genius Max you really are. I’d never have seen that, my sight gets awful that close up. Think I have a few spare distributor caps laying around, I’ll check in the garage if you’re alright to get that one undone?”

“No problem,” Max smiled and set about unscrewing the cap gently.

There was something faintly domestic about fixing the car with Joe, and his mind inevitably flicked back to his dad. This was something that if they’d had a normal relationship, they may have done together; they both liked cars, so fiddling around with the machinery of one would’ve been a fun pass time. But they had no time because Max was always karting, and when he wasn’t, Jos was never around to do anything else together. Doing a typical father-son task with Joe further consolidated how much he was robbed of a normal childhood.

“What was Daniel like as a kid?” Max asked when Joe returned to within ear-shot. It was a weird thing to ask out of the blue, so he attempted to justify himself: “Could do with a bit of dirt on him that I could tease him with, you know.”

Joe laughed heartily whilst screwing in the new distributor cap, “if I’m being honest, he hasn’t changed much at all. Always trying to make people smile, always thriving when being the centre of attention, always joking around. Used to drive me and Grace crazy because he’d never take anything seriously, God knows how he survived in school for as long as he did. But he knew when to buckle down when he felt it mattered to him I guess – it was just a shame it only mattered when it came to racing! Sometimes I almost wish he’d have picked a different career choice.”

Max blinked at that, surprised by the confession, “how come?” He asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t heard of many driver’s parents that felt that way.

“Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of positives; I’ve been able to retire early and live more than comfortably which I wouldn’t have been able to do had he chosen a different job. But having to watch him get into that car every race and have the nagging feeling that it could be his last… I’m sure you understand.”

A part of Max’s stomach twisted painfully when he realised, _no_ , he didn’t understand. He wasn’t aware of the last time someone had expressed worry before he got into the car. Not even at Spa when Hubert lost his life on the exact same track that Max would be driving on the day after. His dad viewed crashes as part of racing and his mum knew better than to say anything different. He knew Victoria was worried sick whilst watching, because she bit at her nails and played with her hands, but never said anything. He got a ‘good luck’ as he jumped in, and that was that.

He didn’t blame his mum nor Victoria for not speaking up and telling him to stay safe, because his father would argue and say that staying safe in a race was a recipe for failure. His fury wasn’t worth it. But still, he wished they’d express it in private, especially now knowing that it was the norm for other parents.

“I get that feeling a lot though,” Joe continued, triumphantly closing the bonnet once he had finished screwing the cap in, “I haven’t been to many races in my life, but the ones I have been to I found myself worrying much more than normal. I’d worry about every single one of the drivers, no matter what team they drove for, or their relationship with Dan. Christ my heart would practically stop if I ever saw you in the barriers.”

“Me?” Max spluttered.

“I know how much you mean to him, and that automatically means you mean a lot to me and Grace. The thought of you getting hurt is… well, yeah. It sucks.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“You don’t need to thank me, Max, really.”

Max shuffled awkwardly and willed down the volcano of his emotions that was threatening to erupt at any second. It meant a lot to hear Joe say such a thing, and he didn’t have the capacity to express just how thankful he was. Hearing that someone _was_ worried about him, even if it was just one person, was validating in the best possible way.

“No, I do. It, uh, it’s really nice to hear,” Max breathed out, voice hoarse, “I don’t really hear it enough.”

Joe ran his hand up and down Max’s arm soothingly, “well if you ever need to hear it again, I’ll say it a thousand times over. So will Grace and so will Dan, you can rely on that.”

“I doubt Daniel would say that, not at the moment,”

“You two had a falling out?”

Max huffed out a forced laugh, “it’s that obvious?”

Joe laughed and walked round to the driver’s side, turning the key in the ignition and smiling with glee when the engine roared into life.

“He’s been walking round with a borderline depressed look on his face all day and when I asked he said he didn’t want to talk about it. You two had been glued to each other since you got here and you were nowhere to be seen so I put two and two together,” he said.

Max winced at the knowledge he’d robbed the ever-present smile off Daniel’s face, it was monumentally hard to do so and yet he’d managed to do it with only the shortest of interactions that morning. He must’ve _really_ fucked up.

“Go talk to him,” Joe interrupted his brooding thoughts and gave him a small shove in the direction of the house, “you’ll feel better when you do it.”

Max nodded, he knew Joe was right. His walk had collected his thoughts enough so that he was more sure of himself and was able to say what he wanted to Daniel without having to worry about saying the wrong thing and making himself look even more stupid. It wouldn’t be easy to get through to the other man, but he had enough experience from races like Hungary and Baku to know that once they actually talked things out, there weren’t any hard feelings.

He quickly said goodbye to Joe and made his way into the house and upstairs to where he knew Daniel’s room was. The door was very slightly ajar and Max could hear the TV playing quietly in the background. When he peered in, he saw Daniel laying on the bed, staring at the TV but looking as if he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what was going on. His face was blank and it looked so unnatural it almost made Max shiver.

As he pushed the door open to walk in, Daniel’s attention turned to him, and his eyes widened slightly in a hopeful way. Max offered a tiny smile which Daniel returned with the slightest twitch of his lips.

“Hi,” Max said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Alright?” Replied Daniel.

Max wasn’t sure where was an appropriate place to stand, so he made his way over to the edge of the bed and stood there awkwardly, cracking his knuckles to fill the silence between them.

“Yeah,” Max breathed, “I came to say sorry.”

Daniel shuffled backwards so he was sitting up more straight against the headrest and fixed Max with an encouraging look.

“I had no right to get snappy with you this morning, it was rude of me and you didn’t deserve it at all,” he began, “I fucked something up pretty bad yesterday and felt awful about it all night, so I just ended up taking it out on you for no reason. I’m really sorry.”

Daniel’s lips curved into a soft smile, “it’s okay. I could kinda tell something was up with you. What happened yesterday then?”

“I just… fuck. Do you mind if I…” he pointed loosely to the space on the bed next to Daniel. The distance between them was too much for the magnitude of the conversation. He also wasn’t sure if he could say the words he was about to loud enough, as if scared someone else would hear.

Daniel nodded in way of an answer and shifted slightly to make even more room on the other side of the bed. Max sat himself down and leaned back on the headrest, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Anywhere but Daniel’s face; he wouldn’t trust the words that’d spill out of his mouth.

“D’you remember when I said I looked at flights back, and I said I didn’t see any?” He said, eyes unwavering.

He saw Daniel nod out of the corner of his eye, and the Aussie consolidated the gesture with a soft “yeah”.

“I lied. I didn’t even check. Then I told Dilara the same thing and she called me out for lying. I felt so bad that night because I wasn’t even sure myself why I lied to her or you, and yet I kept getting these voices in my head telling me it was the right decision. I was still kinda like that in the morning and I blamed you for it because… well I think you were one of the reasons I lied in the first place.” He spoke rapidly, almost hoping Daniel would misunderstand him and not ask for any clarifications so the conversation could be over as quickly as possible.

But he knew the other man was holding onto every single word he said and committing it to memory, and he didn’t even need to look at his face to know that.

“You lied… because of me?” Daniel murmured, slow and calculating.

Max closed his eyes in defeat, “I think I lied because I just didn’t want to leave Perth. I’ve been happier in these past two days than I have been in the past two months and the thought of leaving Perth and, _shit_ , the thought of leaving you was too much. And then I went out today and realised that I was being too selfless recently and deserved to think of myself and what I wanted for once and I want to stay here, with you, for as long as you’ll let me of course. I know it’s bad to sort of invite myself over and expect you to house me so say the word and I’ll go I really don’t mind-“

“Max.”

Max finally opened his eyes and moved his head so he was staring at Daniel, who in turn was staring back, expression indiscernible but captivating. If he had shuffled closer by an inch because of it, he couldn’t tell.

Daniel reached out with his hand and held it in the air around Max’s cheek for a moment, looking as if he was contemplating whether or not he was going to take the plunge. But something flashed behind his eyes and he pressed down, the skin of his hand impossibly warm against Max’s already flushed cheeks. His pinky finger cupped the bottom of his jaw and his thumb brushed the planes of his cheekbone, holding Max’s head in place softly.

Max let out a shaky breath and blinked slowly, opening his eyes to the sight of Daniel who had shifted even closer until their knees knocked together. He was so close Max could see every detail on his face and every fleck of colour in his eyes. It stole not only the words but the breath from his mouth and he could only stare slack-jawed forwards at the man in front of him.

“I knew you lied to me about the flights, because I checked them myself. I just didn’t want to assume you stayed because of me although I couldn’t help but think it, I had a couple of inklings,” Daniel whispered, leaning forward until there was little more than a millimetre of space between their lips and raising his eyebrows in a silent question of ‘yes or no?’.

Max’s brain was fried. He didn’t know how to compute what was happening. He thought of his dad, how disgusted he would be if he could see Max right now – whether that’d be the straw that broke the camels back and he’d finally see one of his dad’s many physical threats come to fruition. He thought of Dilara, his _girlfriend_ (or was she his girlfriend now?), and imagined how she’d take the news that Max had not only kissed another man, but his former teammate. He thought of Daniel, whose eyes were encouraging but not pressurising, and there was a startling amount of emotion in them. He looked… stunning.

But he pulled back ever so slowly before Max could even decide, clearly discouraged by the time at which it had taken for the Dutchman to respond.

Max floundered like a fish out of water and took a handful of Daniel’s shirt from where it clung to his side and pulled at it softly.

“Yes, yes! Or, no- I’m not… I’m not sure,” he gasped out, “definitely yes, but not right now. Can you, um… can you give me a bit of time?”

Daniel laughed and gently squeezed Max’s cheek before dropping his hand to the one Max had curled in his shirt. He linked their fingers together and Max breathed out a silent sigh of contentment.

“Of course,” the Aussie said, leaning back in to press a chaste kiss to the top of Max’s forehead.

The contact burned and Max’s head was swimming with unhelpful negative thoughts that he knew were supplied by his father. He tried to remind himself that this was okay, it was natural, there was nothing wrong with feeling breathless at the sight of another man.

“You’re thinking too much,” Daniel noted.

Max huffed out a laugh, “I know. I’m sorry. Bad habit.”

Daniel used a strong arm to manoeuvre Max around until he was resting against his chest, ear pressed flush to the steady rhythm of Daniel’s heartbeat. The feeling of being so aware of someone alive so close to him was dizzying for Max, and the warmth that emanated from Daniel’s chest made his stomach flutter. He realised with a start why Dilara liked lying on him so much, especially when Daniel’s arm rested against his back and his fingers tapped a gentle staccato on his clothed skin. He felt safe and wanted and everything he never felt with Dilara, or any of his old girlfriends for that matter.

He absentmindedly drew patterns on the exposed skin he found at Daniel’s neck, circling moles and freckles with his finger, smiling giddily because it felt so natural. If he focussed on Daniel’s heartbeat instead of the rampant insecure and negative thoughts, it was so easy to delve into the encompassing waters of the other man’s attention.

“Have I ever told you that jumper looks better on you?” Daniel’s voice was softened and secretive, like he and Max were the only two people in the world.

“Once or twice,” Max teased.

“Good, because it does. I’m in two minds about letting you keep it.”

Max knew there was no chance of anyone managing to take the jumper off him. They’d have more luck prying a trophy out of his hands.

Because somehow, a token of Daniel’s affection meant more than any piece of silverware he could ever own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew another chapter downnnn!
> 
> ngl kinda hate the ending to this one, i was really stuck with how to write it :/
> 
> comments & kudos appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first of all i am SO SO SO SORRY!!!!! for how long this took to update djfskdfns i got fully swamped with school and life and everything and then writers block killed me as well so all my motivation fully died. But all your lovely comments and messages rlly helped keep me going and I FINALLY got around to writing it. I hope and pray it lives up to all your expectations <3

Max didn’t know how long he and Daniel had stayed watching TV, but from the sun filtering in through the curtains to his left, he guessed it was long enough for him to have fallen asleep completely. They had eaten dinner in bed, too engrossed in the series to waste any time eating downstairs and hardly moved the whole evening. Max couldn’t remember returning to his own bed, so he was surprised to find himself in it when he woke up.

He could hear clattering coming from the kitchen downstairs and there was a faint smell of food that helped fight some of the tiredness from waking up; his stomach rumbling as if to remind him he had probably slept for too long and needed to get up eventually. So he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and quickly changed out of the jumper and shorts he had been wearing the day before (which he had somehow neglected to change out of before going to sleep), ruffling the hair atop his head to try and keep the unruly strands under control as much as possible. They still stuck up at silly angles from the motions of his sleep and he was only held back from putting on a cap by the fact he’d look like an idiot for wearing one inside.

He followed his nose downstairs and through to the kitchen where Daniel was busy whistling away behind the counter, scraping burnt pieces of what looked to Max like waffles out of an ancient looking waffle maker. The Aussie never claimed to be a good cook, and Max knew better than to say he was.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Daniel greeted him, with perhaps the softest expression Max had ever seen on his face before. His smile was reserved but frightfully genuine, and if Max had any worries about awkwardness because of what they spoke about the evening before, they had long dissipated after taking one look at the other man.

“Morning,” Max returned the smile and took a seat at the counter, resting his head on his hands and staring unapologetically at Daniel as he shuffled around the kitchen, busily collecting fruit to put on the waffles, “when did I go back into my bed? I must’ve been properly tired, I don’t remember moving.”

Daniel looked surprised at the question, and he raised his hand to the back of his neck, as though embarrassed, “you fell asleep at around midnight and I didn’t wanna wake you up so I carried you back to your bed. I, uh, didn’t know whether you’d have wanted to share,”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Max spoke carefully and quietly, thoroughly taken aback at the act. The respect for Max’s boundaries was so evident, even when they hadn’t discussed the ins-and-outs of them directly. A wave of appreciation for the man in front of him wracked through Max’s body.

Daniel’s lips were pulled into a stupidly broad grin at that and he murmured a quiet, “note taken”, before turning his attention back to the food.

He had laid out two plates, waffles on each that were decorated with fruit and icing sugar (Max refused to think of what his nutritionist would say) that looked so inviting Max could feel his mouth salivating at the mere thought of eating one. They smelled divine too, if one could look past the faint smell of burning from the waffle maker.

Daniel placed a fork on each plate and slid them onto the counter that Max was pushed up to, one in front of the Dutchman and one in front of his own seat.

“Voila, les gaufres de Daniel pour ma personne préférée!” He announced, accent stiff and not at all French-sounding, but Max found it endearing in any case.

“Merci beaucoup,” he replied, with an accent equally as bad, if not worse.

The Aussie rounded the edge of the counter towards his seat, running a hand along Max’s back as he passed behind him. The contact along his spine sent a shiver through him, and Max had to scold himself for acting so touch starved – but part of him was too preoccupied with the feelings Daniel’s hand had evoked to care. His hands were big, that much Max knew. Big enough to always cause the glove-makers problems when it came to getting him new driving gloves and certainly big enough to stretch over enough of the expanse of Max’s back to make his mind wander to other things he probably shouldn’t let himself think about. It was too early in the morning for him to be wondering what Daniel’s calloused fingertips would feel like against his bare skin. Too early and far, _far_ too soon. Max dug into his plate of waffles in a desperate attempt to bring some moisture back into his mouth before he forgot how to speak and think altogether.

To his surprise, they tasted amazing. In reality, he knew it was rather hard to fuck up waffles, but as mentioned before, Daniel was a mediocre cook at best when it came to anything other than microwave meals and the occasional barbecue. The waffles were fluffy and light on Max’s tongue and the strawberries and blueberries were nice sharp tangs of flavour. Perhaps all was not lost on Daniel when it came to cooking.

Max wasn’t holding his breath.

“These are amazing,” he said around a mouthful, ignoring the mental scolding his mother was giving him for talking with his mouth full.

“Aw shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Daniel teased whilst reaching over and ruffling Max’s hair (further making it look like a birds nest, he guessed), “they are pretty good though, if I may say so myself.”

Max swatted at Daniel’s hand halfheartedly, “so modest!” He commented.

“Hey! I’m always modest.”

“Is that so, Mr ‘Good-Looking-And-Fast’?”

Daniel winked shamelessly at that, grin wolfish and so painfully familiar. Max was fully aware he was staring with such obvious heart-eyes that he should’ve felt embarrassed about it, but when Daniel was sat in front of him, looking like _that_ – which referred to him wearing a worn tshirt and sweatpants, but hey, Max never claimed to be picky – he knew he would have a hard time forcing his eyes away. There was something gratifying about how he was the only person to see Daniel like this, save from his family of course. He was usually so well-dressed, with the tiniest bit of product in his hair to control the curls enough that they weren’t rampant across his forehead and complete with bright, wide-awake eyes. The Daniel in front of him looked positively cozy, with messy curls and lazy clothes and eyes slightly narrowed by sleep but sparkling no less than usual, and Max was mesmerised. He wondered how many people had _ever_ seen Daniel like this. He counted himself as one of the lucky few that had.

Daniel seemed to notice his staring, for his smile softened and Max couldn’t even imagine turning away his gaze then; the only thing he wanted to do was wrap himself up in the arms of the other man and never let go. He just looked like… like everything Max ever felt he needed. If that was even possible from simply one look. But Max knew Daniel was probably what he had wanted all along, he’d just never let himself admit it. Because he was a racing driver. And he shouldn’t be friends with any of the drivers. That was how he was raised; pure and simple. The confrontational part of his mind supplied a retort that his father had never specifically ruled out _dating_ another driver, but the rational part knew it was implied.

He had always wanted to be friends with Daniel: as a teenager, desperately trying to get his attention and approval; as a Red Bull rookie, looking up to him as someone who had done it all before and knew how to handle it. When it had turned into wanting to be something more than friends, Max had no idea. He was certain it hadn’t been since he was in Perth, however – he knew it had always been lying under the surface, hidden by the layers of fear and repressed emotions for so long. The difference was that he had finally had the confidence to acknowledge it.

“What do you keep thinking of in that big old head of yours?” said Daniel.

Max stuffed a fork-full of waffle into his mouth to buy himself some time before speaking. He didn’t know what to say other than the truth, plain and simple, but he knew he wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences if he did.

“This,” he settled on, and when Daniel motioned for confirmation he added, “us.”

His mind was working at a mile a minute to figure out how to word what he wanted to say; because he knew Daniel deserved some sort of clarification about everything, and yet what ‘everything’ was, was still a mystery to him.

An emotion Max recognised as dread flashed behind Daniel’s eyes, “you, uh… you having doubts?” He pressed out hesitantly.

“No! I promise I’m not,” Daniel’s fearful response had scrambled Max’s thoughts even more as he fought to reassure him, “just don’t want you to be getting into something that you may regret. I know I’m not an easy person to get on with and I’ve got my own personal problems with… stuff like this that I need to get over, so I don’t want you to be waiting forever for me to come around in case in the end I never do,”

Daniel reached for Max’s hand on the counter and gave it a squeeze, “I’m happy to wait. Got all the time in the world, right?”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

Max let out a long breath and offered the Aussie a grateful smile. He was always so patient with Max, no matter what. He always had been. He had time for Max when others didn’t; wasn’t quick to jump on the criticising bandwagon when Max would make a mistake too many and would instead treat him like a normal person. Because normal people made mistakes, and in racing mistakes were scarily easy to make. A split-second of indecisiveness lost you a position and a moment of complacency left you in the wall. Daniel knew all of these things, and whilst others still managed to hold Max’s mistakes against him, Daniel never did.

“I feel like I don’t really say it enough,” Max began, not really knowing where he was going with the statement but he knew he’d find the right words, “but I really do appreciate everything you do for me. And I mean everything.”

Daniel paused, before he said, “even for crashing into you in Baku?”

It was an easy remark to make and it was one that dissolved the seriousness of the conversation. Once again, Daniel proved that he knew exactly what to say and exactly when to say it.

“You know what? Yeah, even for crashing into me in Baku. I think I needed the reminder that I wasn’t invincible, and a taste of how it felt to be on the receiving end of a bad move,” Max shrugged.

“Bad move? Bad breaking from a certain Dutch driver more like.”

Max shoved at Daniel half-heartedly but smiled despite it all.

“Thank you, though,” Daniel said, giving another squeeze to Max’s hand that he still held in his own, “I know I act like an idiot and everything but I do mean it,”

“I know you mean it, don’t worry,” Max whispered, turning his hand over to slip his fingers in between Daniel’s. (It’d be cheesy to say they fit perfectly, wouldn’t it?)

Daniel watched their joined hands with an easy smile, a light dusting of pink flushing his tanned cheeks. Max gawped at the sight: this Daniel, this cuddly, domestic Daniel, was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

His hand burned from the contact, but in the best way possible; all warm feelings and fiery emotions that lit him alight until he felt almost feverishly hot. And for the first time, his mind was blank. Silent. Fuzzy from the heat waves. He heard nothing but white noise – filling the space and leaving no room for negative thoughts.

It was progress.

A swipe of Daniel’s thumb across his hand drew his attention back to the present, in time to hear Daniel ask: “What do you fancy doing today?”

Max shrugged, far too drunk on the feelings swirling through the air to even formulate a response.

“Don’t mind,” he settled on eventually.

“I think Michael will kill me if I don’t get some kind of exercise in soon,” Daniel began, “so would you be up for a hike?”

And okay, yes, Max was a professional sportsman, yes, he worked hard to perform to the best of his ability, but voluntarily working out? Without being told to? It sounded like a waste of time. Especially when the alternative was lying in bed all day with Daniel by his side.

The Aussie seemed to sense Max’s reluctance for he said, “I’ll try find one of the more flat ones, and we can drive there as well if you’d like.”

The look on Daniel’s face was frustratingly hard to say no to, and each flutter of his eyelashes was like a wrecking ball smashing through Max’s resolve. The battle was over before it had even really started, and Max was annoyed at how little time it had taken for him to be persuaded. He supposed that was just another symptom of… well. Whatever he chose to categorise the things he felt towards Daniel. He knew it’d take a while before he could even imagine using the ‘L’ word.

“Fine,” Max groaned melodramatically (purely because he wanted to act like he hadn’t had his mind made up the moment the words had left Daniel’s mouth) “but only if we spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing.”

Daniel brought their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of Max’s hand, “your wish is my command,” he said with a glimmering grin.

Max rolled his eyes to distract from his fluttering chest and prayed that his face wasn’t as beet-red as it felt. But the way Daniel’s grin widened and eyes sparkled told him it was probably even worse than he imagined. He internally cursed being whiter than a sheet, it was always far too obvious to know when he was blushing.

He avoided any teasing by returning his attention to his food and they eventually polished off the rest of their waffles before washing the dishes together in the sink, though it ended up being more of a water fight than anything, with Daniel intent on splashing Max every chance he got until his shirt was slick to his chest and washing-up liquid bubbles danced around in his hair. They laughed and laughed and laughed some more, stomachs sore and cheeks pink, only stopping when Grace wandered in to scold them for making such a mess (though it was a chore not to laugh again when Daniel got a slap on the back of the head for his troubles). She banished them upstairs with a fond sigh and they stumbled up together, giggling like children who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Max felt like he was living the childhood he had missed, even though he was 22 years old and had a 30 year old beside him. Because somehow, it didn’t matter. Somehow, it all worked. And somehow, he let it.

They parted ways at the top of the stairs, Max wandering into his room to get dressed with a dopey smile. He slipped into a clean (and thankfully dry) shirt, and stared at his collection of shorts. His choice was either the same ones he wore the day before, which smelled faintly, and rather grossly, like livestock and drying water, or team branded shorts he used for working out. He worried his lip between his teeth, the feelings of insecurity he had avoided earlier in the morning suddenly flowing back in full force.

It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to be seen in public with Daniel – he couldn’t care if the press took photos of them on a hike together. It was a perfectly normal activity to do, especially since they had done it multiple times before. It just all boiled down, as so many things did, to his father. The last time the press had leaked photos of Max and Daniel hanging out, his dad had given him a stern lecture on fraternising with the enemy and why he could be compromising his performance by spending too much time with Daniel.

The mere insinuation that Daniel even _cared_ enough to spill Max’s team secrets was bullshit, but Max hated being yelled at, so that was that. He became wary of ever being seen out with Daniel in case his dad caught wind of it.

So because of that, team branded shorts were off the table. He didn’t need someone putting two and two together and snapping a picture.

With a deep breath to return some of the air into his lungs, he made his way into Daniel’s room, knocking on the door even though it was ajar enough to see into.

Daniel’s face appeared in place of the door and he cocked his head slightly, fixing Max with a confused look, “that was fast,” he observed.

“Don’t suppose you have a spare pair of shorts I could borrow at all? The only clean ones I have are team branded and… I don’t wanna be noticed. It’s not because I don’t want to be seen with you, don’t worry it’s just I wouldn’t want something to ruin this hike, you know? I’m always bad with reporters and fans – as I’m sure you’ve seen – so I just want to stay on the down low. I promise it’s not about you,” Max babbled, like he always does when he lies. He hated lying, to Daniel especially, but the truth would just expose him as the insecure and self-conscious person he really was, and showing Daniel the ugly sides to him was something for another day – or, if Max could help it, never at all.

Daniel paused briefly, brows furrowing like he was contemplating the words that fell from Max’s mouth before he shook his head, laughing gently to himself.

“I think your head is so big because of all the overthinking you do, Maxy,” he jibed harmlessly, “I know what you mean, don’t worry. I should have some in the top drawer of my dresser, just help yourself.”

He turned away to flick through the assortment of shirts in his wardrobe, so Max took the cue and walked over to the dresser, picking out the first pair of black shorts he saw and praying Daniel didn’t have the same tendency to wear oversized shorts as he did shirts.

He changed in the en-suite, listening to the droning of the extractor fan and the faint humming of Daniel on the other side of the closed door. His hair looked even worse than when he had woken up when he looked in his reflection, so he frantically wet his hands and ran them through it, before deciding a cap was the best course of action instead of fretting over it for much longer. He made a mental note to grab one before he left.

With a final look in the mirror, he made his way out back into Daniel’s room, returning the smile the other man flashed his way as he pushed open the door.

“Ready?” Daniel asked.

Max hummed in affirmation, passing another hand through his hair out of habit.

Daniel grabbed a shirt he had left lying on his bed and nodded, “cool, give me one second and I’ll be ready.”

The Aussie yanked his shirt over his head and threw it in the vague direction of a wash basket in the corner, exposing tanned skin that Max really should’ve been used to by that point but somehow it still stole the breath from his chest. Daniel’s body dipped and curved in all the right places, and Max could probably wax lyrical about it for hours given a pen and paper. There was a tingling in his fingers at the urge to reach out and smooth up the sculpted chest, across abs and the gentle protrusion of ribs, winding round to the shoulder blades and back down to the arch of his back. Where he was used to soft curves, Daniel was all hard edges, and it was mouth-watering.

His shirt was replaced far too quickly for Max’s liking, with the offending fabric covering up every slither of skin bar Daniel’s arms - though if Max was being honest, even the sight of his built biceps, dotted with mismatch tattoos was enough to make his heart rate pick up.

Daniel smoothed down his shirt and, with a quick gesture to Max to announce their departure, swung a backpack over his shoulder before making for the door. Max swallowed against his drying throat and followed, pausing abruptly when Daniel stopped in the doorway.

“Oh wait, one last thing. Do you mind picking your jaw up off the floor before we leave?” Daniel turned around to face Max and winked devilishly.

And if Max wasn’t 6 feet under from the sight of Daniel topless, he sure as hell was then.

Daniel didn’t wait for a response, and instead walked downstairs, humming to the same tune he had been before, just like nothing had changed. Like Max wasn’t standing in his room, mouth gaping like he was struggling to breathe.

He wasn’t aware he had been staring that hard. Had it been obvious? Max was second-guessing himself at top-speed, in a way only he could do best (because as much as he hated to admit, Daniel was right, he was very good at overthinking). He tried to convince himself that Daniel didn’t care; he would’ve said if he felt uncomfortable, right? Or did he just make a joke out of the situation to make everything less awkward?

Max was halfway through his existential crisis before he realised he was actually meant to be following Daniel. So he sprinted towards the staircase, doubled back when he realised he’d forgotten his cap, and then flung himself down the stairs, trying not to make eye-contact with the smug-looking Daniel at the bottom of them.

“I wasn’t staring,” Max said indignantly as he fumbled with his shoelaces.

“I never said you were,” Daniel returned, sickeningly sweet.

Max pushed past Daniel and opened the front door, the soft breeze like an icy punch against his burning face.

“Well I wasn’t,” he was being stubborn, purely for the sake of it.

But it seemed to work, for Daniel’s expression had switched from less of amusement to more of something warmer. Or perhaps hotter was a better word, for Max was searing under his gaze.

“Shame,” Daniel drawled, “would’ve liked you to see the show.”

There was a hidden promise behind his words, and Max suppressed a shiver at the thought. His mind filled with images of hands pressing down on hot, hot skin; smooth and impossibly tantalising. He gulped audibly.

“Maybe next time,” he whispered.

“Maybe next time,” Daniel echoed.

Max was praying to every God he could name that there was a next time.

-:-

The Jeep was achingly hot when they piled into it, black seats absorbing all the heat from the unrelenting sun and burning the skin of Max’s thighs that were exposed by his shorts. Daniel seemed unfazed by it all, predictably, and simply settled into the drivers seat, pulling some sunglasses over his eyes and turning the key in the engine. Thankfully, when the car came alive, so did the air conditioning, and the blast of cool air did wonders; cooling him down both physically and metaphorically – for he was still trying to push down the pit of warmth in his stomach. 

Daniel fiddled around with the dash for a minute or so, pressing button after button until, finally, the music roared through the speakers. Max almost flinched at the volume.

“No wonder you’re deaf,” Max said, turning the volume dial down to a more acceptable level.

“Hey, it’s more immersive okay?” Daniel scoffed, “there’s nothing better than not being able to hear yourself think, especially ‘cause thinking is such a chore sometimes.”

Max huffed out a laugh, “ok, you have a point.”

Daniel smiled triumphantly and turned the music all the way back up, singing just as loud whilst pulling out of the driveway. Max just shook his head and stared out of the window, content to have his eardrums attacked from all sides purely because it felt like old times.

He testingly hung an arm out of the window and moved his hand up and down against the waves of wind as they sped off through the winding roads of the bush. The songs came and went, some Max knew and some he didn’t, but he made a valiant attempt to sing along in any case, yelling along until his throat scratched against the exertion.

At some point, Daniel had popped the roof of the Jeep, and Max scrambled in his seat, fighting to undo his seatbelt before standing up with his upper body out of the car. _Here’s to Never Growing Up_ by Avril Lavigne blasted out in the silence of the empty roads and Max felt like he was in some cliché American teenage film that romanticised being a teenager so much, you couldn’t help but feel let down when you realised life wasn’t exactly like that. But the difference was that he was actually living it. He actually was standing on the front seat of a car, half out out of it altogether with his hands thrown up in the air, singing along to a song that was probably equally as at fault for romanticising the teenage years.

He could hear Daniel’s laughs that clung to the end of his voice as he sung along as well, and he realised, without a single doubt in his mind, that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“You look good when you don’t have a care in the world,” Daniel commented when Max sunk back down into his seat, chest heaving but cheeks stinging from smiling so wide.

“It’s Perth man,” Max panted out, “being here keeps making me forget about, well, everything,”

Daniel smiled, “it sure does have a habit of doing that,”

With the sun against his neck and wind between his fingers, Max could breathe.

And not just a monotonous in and out, but a fulfilling inhale and exhale that left him lightheaded with glee. There was no imaginary weight on his chest that made breathing a chore; it had been banished by the freedom and tranquility of a city in Western Australia and one of its inhabitants in particular.

The trees flashed past his eyes as they drove, each like the glaring burst of a Polaroid camera – gone as quickly as they had appeared. In the distance, rocky hills towered above the horizon, and even through the racket of the music, he could just about make out the sound of a steady rush of water. It painted a picture through the windshield that Max wanted to take a picture of and tape to the inside of his eyelids, so that whenever he closed his eyes he’d be reminded of the picturesque sight ahead of him.

A song and a half later, and Daniel had pulled into a small makeshift car park at the foot of a cliff. It was surprisingly steep, and Max fought back a groan at how much energy it’d take to walk to the top.

“I thought you said this one wasn’t steep?” He pouted, sinking further down into his seat and watching the incline defeatedly.

Daniel rolled his eyes, “I said I’d find one that was more flat than the others, and that’s what I did, you should see the rest of the hiking trails round here!”

Max actually did groan this time, but only because Daniel’s excuse was too good to argue against and he didn’t know what to say back. Daniel gave him a lighthearted shove and hopped out of the Jeep, grabbing his backpack from the boot whilst Max summoned the motivation to move. He was being dramatic, sure; but as aforementioned, voluntary exercise was _not_ his thing. Especially not in the scorching 30 degree heat.

However when Daniel rounded the car to stand in front of the passenger side door, Max took one glimpse and (once again) his resolve was broken. There was an excitement in his eyes that was impossible to keep a straight face at – especially not when Max realised the excitement there was excitement borne of Daniel’s want to spend time together. So he let himself smile and pushed open the car door, breathing in the air that had somehow managed to feel even clearer. The sound of rushing water was more prominent with the music turned off, and Max could hear waves cascading over each other and crashing into rocks nearby.

“You’re not gonna make me jump in any more water are you?” He asked jokingly.

Daniel chuckled, “don’t worry, even I’m not stupid enough to go in the river here, it’s freezing. We do need to cross it at one point though, unless you want an even steeper climb to the top?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,”

“Yeah I thought you might,”

Daniel slipped his sunglasses back onto his face and set off along a vaguely trampled path, water bottle in hand and looking every bit like the experienced hiker he probably was. Max on the other hand had a pair of shitty Nike trainers that were definitely not up to the task of scaling rocks, a t-shirt which he didn’t even want to think about how it’d feel caked in sweat at the end and a cap that he couldn’t tell whether to face forwards to stop his face from burning or backwards to stop the back of his neck from burning, but in either case it never covered his face or neck fully anyway.

They followed the path for a while, their route thankfully flat for the most part. The sharp incline of the cliff looked long and arduous, and Max didn’t envy the few people he saw dotted at various points walking up it. Daniel explained that there was a longer but less steep hike up to the top if they skirted around, and Max was happy to follow his lead, grateful that the pace he set wasn’t ridiculously quick as they trundled along chatting aimlessly to each other.

The sound of the rushing water got louder until they topped a small crest and were met with the sight of a river cutting through the uneven ground. Waves surged quicker than Max had ever seen; hitting against the rocks and throwing up a spray of water. The droplets landed in his hair when they walked closer, offering him a small respite from the heat.

“Might wanna be careful here,” Daniel said, “the rocks can get pretty slippery so try keep your balance, I really don’t fancy having to pull you out of the rapids,”

“I’ll do my best, can’t promise anything with these shoes though,” Max replied, once again cursing his choice of footwear.

“I’ll stay close enough behind to catch you, don’t worry,”

Max relaxed a tad at that, and took a number of steps forward. A make shift collection of stepping stones protruded from the river, high enough to be spared from any waves crashing into them but still sodden from the spray. He slowly placed his foot on the first one and tested the grip: it was poor, as he had expected, but he theorised that if he treaded carefully enough, he could get across without much trouble.

It was much like driving a car in the wet really, with the conditions lowering the grip drastically, and focus shifting from trying to make up time where possible to just controlling the car enough to keep it out of the barriers. He just had to take his time, there was no point embarrassing himself for the sake of showing off (and God know’s he had made that mistake many a time in racing)

He lifted his other foot off the sturdy ground and stood fully on the first rock; it was wide, thankfully, so he could balance his weight evenly enough to stand normally without teetering. The next rock was close enough that it was fairly easy to cross to it, though he was still overly cautious as he stepped onto it one foot at a time. He could hear the sound of Daniel moving behind him, and when he turned, he saw the other man standing on the first rock, showing no signs of the fearful apprehension that was making Max’s shoulders tense. If anything, it looked like he walked this same path every day, and crossing a river by the slippery rocks protruding from it was simply second nature.

Daniel offered him a gentle nod and Max whipped back around. It proved to be slightly too fast, for the sudden movement knocked him off balance and his shoe (had he mentioned how much he hated them?) slipped down one side of the rock. But as quickly as he had lost his balance, he regained it again, when two hands on his waist held him upright and gave him enough time to replace his foot on the flat surface of the rock. Daniel had caught him – just like he said he would – and had joined him on the rock, chest pressing achingly close to Max’s back as they struggled to fit in such a small space.

“You’re welcome,” Daniel teased, and Max could feel his chest vibrating softly against his back as he spoke.

Max huffed stubbornly, “I would’ve been fine.”

Daniel just hummed, squeezing Max’s waist gently with his hands before slipping them down to his hips and then back to his own sides. Max frowned at the loss of warmth.

“You also said you weren’t staring, and I’m not sure I believe that either,” Daniel drawled nonchalantly, “you have a bit of a habit of lying don’t you?”

“Oh so we’re bringing that up again, are we?”

“Absolutely.”

Max continued his trek across the rocks, lunging forward slightly in order to step onto the next one and making the conscious effort to keep his movements slow and predictable. Although he would’ve taken the embarrassment of slipping if it meant he’d have Daniel’s hands on him again.

“So you wouldn’t mind me bringing up the night of the barbecue then? You know, when you looked like you wanted to eat me alive,” Max goaded.

Daniel fell silent, and Max fought back a laugh.

“I didn’t think I was being that obvious, was I?” The Aussie asked eventually as Max stepped to the final rock.

“You really were.”

When he got his feet back on stable ground, Daniel wasn’t far behind, and when he turned to face him, they were dizzyingly close together.

Daniel blinked, as if taken aback by the sudden proximity but seemed to take it in his stride not a moment later.

“Well, what can I say,” he murmured, “you looked hot.”

Max felt the world tip briefly and he was suddenly too far out of his depth. It was just a compliment, a throw away comment; there was likely no truth behind it. Daniel said it to everyone, Christ, he had said it to Max more times than he could count: before they left for a club, before awards ceremonies, during a meeting when he wanted to leave Max floundering for a response.

But something was different.

There was a warmth in his words. A warmth that was domestic, appreciative and lustful all at once. Daniel’s breath was fluttering against his face, a minuscule breeze that tickled the skin above his lip and swirled against the red-hot skin of his cheeks. They were so close. _Too_ close. Max dared to divert his gaze down, and watched in awe as Daniel’s lips parted ever so slightly as he did so, revealing the tips of his front teeth between them.

His mind was screaming at him to look away, to walk away altogether; from Daniel and from Perth, all the way back to Monaco with Dilara and his dad and Red Bull. And for a moment, he entertained it. He stepped back with a shuddering breath and forced his eyes away from the man in front of him. Daniel mirrored his action, and when Max looked him in the eyes again, there was an apologetic look in them that snapped him back to reality. He let his shoulders sag and sighed defeatedly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, leaning forward to rest his head against Daniel’s shoulder. “I’m a mess.”

Daniel chucked softly, “It’s fine, Max. Not the time or place, I understand, you don’t have to worry.”

Daniel’s hand came to rest on his back and the gentle sweep of his fingers soothed the tension from his bones. He leaned closer into the other man and breathed deeply, Daniel’s aftershave filling his senses.

“When is the time and place though?” Max said defeatedly.

“That’s for you to figure out I guess,” Daniel replied, “I can’t influence you on that.”

“But I don’t want to have to figure it out, I _shouldn’t_ have to,”

Daniel’s head twisted above him and Max felt a kiss being pressed into his hair, “it’ll happen when it happens, don’t stress about it.”

Max knew Daniel was right, but it was so hard for him to tell himself that. He couldn’t get over the idea that he was being annoying, and that making Daniel wait so long would inevitably lead to him leaving or becoming disinterested before Max got his shit together. And yet every time he got remotely close, he’d freeze up and was back to square one.

He was never like this. When he wanted something, he took it; grabbing the bull by the horns and not stopping until what he wanted was in his grasp. And Daniel was inches away from his grasp, willing and seemingly content to wait, but Max’s head was holding him back with it’s internalised fear of anything other than the societal norm. It was preventing him from moving his hands away from his side to tug Daniel towards him and kiss him senseless until he couldn’t breathe. _That_ was what he wanted. It was the only thing he really, truly wanted, but didn’t have.

And it was tearing him apart from the inside.

-:-

Eventually, they continued the walk, climbing up the hiking trail until they reached the top; it overlooked the car park and boasted an impressive view of the uninhabited wilderness, all prickly bushes and scarcely dotted trees that looked practically tiny from the height they were at. The cliff edge was abrupt, and much higher than the one Max was used to back at Daniel’s farm, so he didn’t dare join in when Daniel and a couple of tourists took some photos standing dangerously close to the edge.

Max took a seat on a rock a safe distance back and stared out at the bush, marvelling it its simplicity but obvious beauty. He hadn’t thought it possible to fall even more in love with Perth, but he had succeeded. And something told him that the fall wasn’t even over yet. Daniel had raved to him about the beaches and seaside bars before, knowing from when they were teammates that there was nothing Max loved more than beaches and alcohol, so joining them together just seemed like the logical solution.

Daniel joined him after a while, squeezing onto the little space Max had left on the rock and letting out a relaxed sigh.

“You finished with your photographer duties?” Max teased.

Daniel laughed heartily, “almost done, just got one more…” and with that, he pulled out his phone and held it out in front of them, pushing closer to Max to get both of their photos in the frame and snapping a few photos before grinning triumphantly, “done!”

“My face looks so red in that, I think I’m sunburnt,” grumbled Max, twisting his cap back around to the front.

“I doubt that hat is gonna do much to help you now,”

“Yeah well, it’s better than nothing,”

Daniel scoffed, flicking through the photos he had taken. Max’s chest flushed hot when he saw the Aussie favourite them.

“I like you better when you don’t have them on,” Daniel said, placing his phone down and turning to Max with a serious expression, “if you’re not careful I’ll throw all of them away.”

“You wouldn’t,” Max mock-gasped, grinning when Daniel’s eyebrows rose disbelievingly.

“Oh I wouldn’t?” He said, “I wouldn’t just do this?”

He raised a hand and snatched the hat off Max’s head, chucking it into the air with a sly grin. When it should’ve simply fallen back down into Daniel’s waiting hands, it instead caught the breeze and blew away, tumbling off the side of the cliff and down to the bush below.

There was a moment of deafening silence before Daniel exploded into laughter, doubling over and clutching at his stomach as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Max sat slack-jawed before the realisation finally hit him.

“Daniel!” He yelled, far more shocked than actually angry, “what the hell?!”

Daniel fought to speak through his fit of laughter, spluttering out an almost incomprehensible “I’m so sorry!” in between laughs.

Max bit his lip to avoid joining in (because it was pretty funny, he couldn’t lie), opting instead to slap Daniel over the back of the head lightly.

“What did you even think was going to happen?” He asked, sentence half broken by a chuckle.

The other man straightened up and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “I’ll be honest, I don’t know,” he managed to say, “you did challenge me though so it is kind of your fault.”

Max rolled his eyes, “yeah, but I didn’t expect you to throw my hat off a fucking cliff.”

That comment made Daniel dissolve back into laughter, and this time, Max was helpless to avoid joining in.

So they sat there, raucous laughter ringing out on the top of the cliff, leading to questioning stares from tourists and locals, but they couldn’t even imagine sparing any of them a second glance. It was easy. As it always was when he was with Daniel.

The back and forth he feared he had lost when he’d snapped at Daniel the day before was back, and succeeded wholly in making things seem normal. Because he couldn’t fret about what he and Daniel were then if they acted almost the same as they did before. Sure, Max had probably been more touchy than he’d have ever dared ever since their discussion in bed, but Daniel had hugged him constantly when they were teammates anyway, so it was feasible to assume nothing changed.

To Max, it was obvious something had, however. He was more aware of Daniel’s actions; constantly seeking him out and silently observing everything that made up the man sitting to his left. And not only that, but he was more aware of his own actions too – conscious of how he looked and appeared to Daniel, like he hadn’t seen Max at his worst on multiple occasions anyway.

It was strange how things could change so drastically after simply acknowledging something that had really been there all along.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Daniel broke from his laughter abruptly and turned to face Max at break-neck speed, “my dad wanted me to thank you again for helping him fix the Jeep yesterday. He was so adamant about I should thank you I think he’d have slapped me if I forgot to mention it,”

“It was nothing, really, but it’s nice he said that anyway,” Max smiled fondly, “I really like your dad.”

The comment was possibly as genuine as they come. Daniel’s dad was everything Max’s dad wasn’t, and that was enough for Max to like him.

Daniel’s face softened impossibly, and the way in which he was looking at Max felt like a hug in itself.

“He really likes you too, you’ve always been his favourite teammate of mine,” Daniel said.

Max blinked, “he likes me more than Seb? Really?”

“Yeah. I guess I was never as close to Seb as I was to you, so that probably helped.”

“No one likes me more than Seb, he’s definitely lying.”

Daniel scoffed, inching a finger closer to Max’s leg until it began circling the bones of his knee intermittently. The contact was so feather-light it almost tickled.

“I like you more than Seb,” he murmured, finger pressing down a tad harder as if to emphasise his words.

Max huffed out a laugh, “I should hope so.”

The Dutchman’s hand searched for Daniel’s fingers, tracing them when he made contact. Max could see a smile grow on Daniel’s face at his actions.

“I think…” Max began, but his words fell away when he realised the gravity of them. The man beside him raised an eyebrow and Max swallowed before continuing, “I think he’s hugged me more this trip than my own dad has in the past two years,” he laughed when he finished, to try and make the comment sound less sad, but it fell on a stark silence.

He wasn’t even exaggerating. In fact, two years was probably an understatement. He could’ve even stretched it to five years if he really thought about it. Realistically, it was just down to their differing personalities – Joe was clearly an affectionate person, and Jos very clearly wasn’t. But that justification still didn’t sit right with Max. It was his own father, for God’s sake, affection should be the least a father should offer to their kid.

Daniel left the silence long and deafening, and his fingers had paused their ministrations on Max’s leg.

“Sorry,” Max fought to say, the lack of a response increasing the panic in his stomach until it boiled over, “I didn’t mean to get all weird like that, fuck. Just… just forget I said that, okay?”

He scrambled against the rock to sit further upright, snatching his hand away from Daniel’s to tear them both through the strands of his hair.

“It wasn’t weird Max, you were being honest and that’s good. I just got a bit taken aback is all,” Daniel said, reaching for Max’s arm to softly tug him back.

Max shook his head, “I shouldn’t have said it though, my dad’s not a bad person” he whispered in a small voice.

It was a lie. But there was the old conundrum again, Max couldn’t deal with another person possibly expressing a negative opinion about his dad. Seething retorts and scathing comments had built on his tongue, ready for the moment that Daniel stepped too far and expressed some kind of negative opinion. He’d never want to snap at Daniel, but he didn’t trust himself not to if worst came to worst.

Daniel tugged a bit harder and Max let himself be pulled back until he was leaning against the rock again, cool surface behind his head that served as a welcome chill against his frazzled brain.

“Your dad isn’t a bad person, Max,” Max could tell Daniel was choosing his words carefully, “he just hasn’t been the best person to you in your lifetime, and I know you know that, no matter what you say.”

He was teetering on the line, and Max could feel himself gearing up to erupt against his will.

“But-“ he began, but Daniel cut him off almost immediately.

“No, listen to me. He has done amazing things for you; taught you how to kart, got you into Formula 1, got you sponsorships, all of those are things most normal fathers wouldn’t be able to do. That’s what makes him a good dad. What makes him a bad dad is that he doesn’t do the things that those normal fathers do, and those are arguably more important,” Daniel said.

Max only just caught the harsh words threatening to spill out of his mouth before they did; swallowing them back down and forcing himself to focus on Daniel’s words. They were true, and he regretfully knew it.

“I know,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, “it’s just hard to admit it.”

“Of course it is. He’s your dad, Max,” Daniel replied.

“I wish he acted like he gave a shit about me though. A hug once in a while would be really fucking nice.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure he does give a shit about you, okay? He just shows it in bad ways.”

Max shrugged, he was unconvinced but knew better than to argue.

Daniel slipped an arm around Max’s shoulders and sent him an encouraging and hesitant smile, “and if you ever need a hug, you know where to find one,” he said.

And to be honest, Max really needed one.

He shifted closer to Daniel and wound both arms around the other man’s waist, twisting his hips awkwardly at the strange angle but he dealt with the strain purely because when Daniel pulled him into his chest, he felt the tenseness in his body dissipate almost immediately.

“You give good hugs,” Max mumbled, drawing a gentle laugh from Daniel.

“Does that mean you’ll keep hugging me then?”

Max tightened his grip, “if you’re not careful I’ll never stop.”

“Good,” Daniel returned, breath tickling the exposed (and probably burnt) skin on Max’s neck, “that’s the idea.”

They sat under the sun for a while, a silence – comfortable this time – filling the air between them save for the slow and content whistlings of breath. Max had unwrapped himself from Daniel’s embrace after a while, contact suddenly too much for the unforgiving heat, and returned to leaning back against the rock, but he allowed his head to lower onto Daniel’s shoulder as a way of keeping close.

He could practically feel his skin sizzling away because of the sunlight, but he didn’t feel like moving an inch. People milled around in his peripheral vision, enjoying the scenery and chatting away happily as they came and went, red faced from the ascent to the top. Max observed them with little more than lazy curiosity, flitting between each new hiker before returning his gaze to the skies to watch the clouds. Daniel tapped a steady rhythm against the slither of rock between them and had a slight but constant smile on his face.

“We should probably get going,” the Aussie piped up eventually, shifting to sit up and dislodging Max’s head from his shoulder in the process.

Max groaned, “but it’s so nice and comfortable here,” he whined.

“On a rock?” Daniel questioned with a chuckle.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it,” said Daniel, sliding off the rock and offering a hand to Max that he duly took and hoisted himself up to stand.

Daniel grabbed his backpack from where he had rested it against the rock and took a long swig from his water bottle.

“How long is it gonna take to get back down?” Max asked, looking ruefully at the way they came and frowning at the thought of having to cross the river again.

Daniel hummed in thought before replying, “we can shave off like 30 minutes if we go down the really steep way I guess,”

Max was sold as soon as the notion that he’d be back in the comfort of Daniel’s home 30 minutes quicker, even if he’d have to deal with the fluttering in his stomach at walking down a ridiculously steep path.

“Sounds good,” he said anyway, following after Daniel as he set off walking along a path that led to the side of the cliff.

Daniel let him take the lead, explaining that it’d be easier to catch Max if he tripped if he was behind him, and helpfully reminded Max of his failure at keeping his footing at the river. Max just rolled his eyes and trotted on along the path that he could see wound like a staircase around the cliff, with intermittent bends that changed the direction of the descent frequently.

After a while, the rocky land to the left of the path fell away, and Max held a hand out to rest against the wall of the cliff on his right to steady himself. The path was thin already, and seemed thinner still when there was nothing on either side apart from the wall of a cliff on one and the edge of another cliff on the other. He let out a rattling breath and tried to keep his eyes fixed forwards. Looking over the edge was probably the stupidest idea he could possibly have, so he refused to let his gaze move even an inch, instead focussing on the trees in the distance.

They reached the first bend in the path which offered them a slight respite from the constant walking downhill, but when they turned it, Max was greeted with the sight of an impossibly steeper descent ahead of him. His shoulders sunk, but there was no point chickening out now, so he carried on, returning his hand to the cliff wall that was this time on his left.

The ground was much more unstable on this descent, and Max found himself on the brink of slipping far too many times. Tiny rocks dislodged beneath his feet as he walked, tumbling off the edge and scattering on the path below.

“Jesus…” Max whispered inwardly, struggling to follow his own rule of not looking over the edge.

Daniel must’ve heard him, for he donned a teasing tone and said, “someone sounds scared. Wanna hold my hand, Maxy?” He punctuated it with a giggle and Max scowled before an idea sprung to his mind.

He stopped walking briefly and turned to face Daniel, taking in his cheeky grin and responding with a straight-faced raise of the eyebrows.

“Well, since you _offered_ ,” Max shrugged before grabbing Daniel’s hand and setting off again.

Daniel stumbled at first, but fell in stride after a second or two and guffawed loudly, the sound ringing off the cliff wall. Their fingers slid in between each other naturally and Max smiled giddily at the contact.

Holding hands with Daniel shouldn’t have felt as spectacular as it did, because it was just holding hands. Just having Daniel’s hand in his own, with their fingers tangled together. But somehow, it made Max feel on top of the world.

When they finally reached the bottom of the cliff after a painstaking descent, Daniel didn’t move to part their hands and Max didn’t dare bring it up, happy to enjoy the action for as long as he could. They rounded a final bend and were met with the sight of the car park, Daniel’s car standing out like a lighthouse for Max as his legs screamed against the amount of exercise he had done.

Max eagerly dragged them towards it, not even the burning hot car seats enough to deter him from yearning for the sweet release of being able to sit down. They were halfway towards the car when Daniel stopped in his tracks and gasped.

“No fucking way,” he gawped, mouth wide but corners still somehow twisted in a smile.

Max stared at him confusedly, “what?”

Daniel didn’t answer, and instead detached his hand from Max’s and made for one of the trees that lined the edges of the car park. Max gazed after him with furrowed eyebrows that shot up immediately at the sight of Daniel grabbing onto a branch to yank himself up.

“Daniel what the hell are you doing?!” He yelled, jogging over to watch as Daniel scrabbled with his feet against the trunk to find a foothold. The branch seemed to groan under his weight as the Aussie finally found enough purchase to pull himself up and onto it, before reaching up into the flurry of leaves as though in search of something.

“I’ll tell you if I could just… grab this thing-“ he stretched himself further, arms straining at the movement, “I’m so fucking close to it this is ridicul- ah-ha!” He announced triumphantly, retrieving something black from the leaves above him and slipping down onto the ground in one swift movement.

He walked towards Max with a giant grin and held the item in front of him, and it took Max a second to realise it was his cap. The same one Daniel had thrown off the cliff not a couple of hours before.

“Oh my God,” Max collapsed in laughter, finding perhaps more hilarity in the situation than there really was, but Daniel simply matched his actions and fell to the floor laughing just as hard.

It took them a while to compose themselves, the sight of the cap reviving their laughing fits whenever one would look at it again, but when they did, Daniel rose to his feet and spun the cap around his finger absentmindedly, gaze fixed solely on Max.

“Not sure why I got it back, really. I like you better without it,” he said.

Max shifted under the strength of their eye contact, but held firm, “I like wearing caps though,” he supplied.

Daniel stepped closer to Max until they were standing toe to toe and reached up to place the cap on Max’s head. Max once again found his eyes drifting downwards to Daniel’s lips and he had to fight to return them back up. His desire to kiss Daniel until he forgot his own name was becoming an itch not easily relieved by simply scratching anymore. He wanted to ruin Daniel. He wanted Daniel to ruin him. Standing so close but having him metaphorically so out of reach was torturous.

He felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to subconsciously wet his bottom lip and it was electrifying to see Daniel’s eyes flash down to follow the movement. When they returned to stare into Max’s, there was a heat in them that scorched Max from the inside out.

The flames were no longer just lapping at his feet, they were snaking up his legs and curling around his waist.

He wanted them to consume him. So wholeheartedly that not a single part of his body was left unscathed.

And the need for it was almost uncontrollable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you all for the support on this fic, it’s honestly crazy!   
> hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 i promise I’ll be better at updating from now on lmao


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